


Stop the Train

by RannonSolo7



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-11-14 04:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RannonSolo7/pseuds/RannonSolo7
Summary: Katniss knows that the chances of her returning to district 12 after volunteering in place of her sister for the Hunger Games are slim. Even if she is able to outlast all of the other tributes, there is still the problem of Peeta Mellark to contend with. She has resented the Merchant class her whole life, but the idea of killing the boy who once saved her is unthinkable. The path set before her is grim until an accident gives both young tributes an opportunity to take an alternate path, a course that may give them both a chance to live, but may keep them from ever reuniting with their loved ones again.





	1. Reaping Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fanfiction readers, 
> 
> I am finally back after a long break. I intended to return sooner but my real life is so busy that it is difficult for me to find time to write. I promised you another story though so here it is. This is Stop the Train. I have never written anything this canon compliant before so bear with me. I have had this idea for a while now and wanted to try it out. The first two chapters follow the general story line pretty well but I took my own liberties. The story will take a major divergence starting in chapter 3 and from there on out it is all my own story line. I obviously don't own the Hunger Games or any of its characters. Please take the time to drop me a comment or a hello if you have time at the end.

You don’t actually wake up the morning of reaping day, at least not if you care about anyone who has reached his or her twelfth birthday but not yet made it to the nineteenth. You don’t wake up because you never fall asleep in the first place. When I was younger it was the hunger that kept me up all night. Now it is the unknow. What will happen at that reaping bowl a few hours from now? Will it be Gale, leaving me friendless with another half dozen mouths to feed? Will it be me, and Prim will have to sleep alone? Gale will make sure she has food, but what about everything else? She is just twelve years old, still my little duck. Will it be both Gale and I? How will our families survive? Will it be Prim or little Rory and one of us will have to volunteer? I would do it for Prim in a heartbeat but Gale is more practical. It may be better for his family for him to stay and provide. I don’t know. I just don’t know. 

I can’t stand the thoughts swirling around in my head another minute so I gently ease my sister to the side and slip on my clothes. My mother is still in bed which is just as well. I don’t want to see her today. I don’t want to see anyone. I pull on my boots and grab my father’s hunting jacket and am out the door before I must. 

I scoot under the fence just as the sun begins to rise. Birds twitter in the trees as I walk quietly in search of prey. I envy the creature I will shoot on this hunt. It is going about its normal routine. It may be trying to catch breakfast. It has no idea what is coming. It doesn’t know that it is reaping day. 

The only bright side is that we have no school. It gives me plenty of time to take down two squirrels. One will feed my mother and Prim. I may taste it as well if the odds are in my favor. The other will likely be traded to the baker for some bread.

As much as I hate the merchants who own the shops in town, I am forced to admit that he isn’t all bad. While the others will trade only minimal items for my game he always treats me fairly. It makes me angry with him sometimes. He knows he doesn’t really have to and still he does. It makes the transaction seem like charity. As though every time he hands the bag over, I owe him more and more. 

I am still trying to decide if I admire the baker for his fair mindedness, hate him for his pity, or ridicule him for his weakness in dealing with a powerless seam girl when a movement catches my eye. I turn to see a gorgeous doe. She starts as she notices me for the first time as well. They don’t usually run, at least not right away. Gale and I are the only ones who hunt in these parts so they have little reason to be afraid. I draw my arrow to take advantage of her lack of alarm. 

Just as I let out my breath and start to release my string I hear a loud voice. 

“What are you doing there Catnip?” Gale shouts. 

My arrow sails wide and the deer bounds into the woods. 

“What the hell Gale?” I accuse, stalking over to confront him. 

“Calm down” he says with his hands held up in a sign of peace. 

He isn’t truly afraid of my anger. I can tell because he turns away from me and walks back to the edge of the trees. I follow in silence, knowing why he called out. Knowing that he is right, but hating the whole world for it anyway. He stops at the edge of the meadow and flops down. 

His eyes concentrate on the distance as I take in his profile. As frustrated as I am with the loss of the doe, this may be the last time we get to do this. I take the seat beside him. Neither of us speaks for a long time. I prefer it this way, this mutual understanding of where things stand and who our enemies are. I know exactly what he is thinking, the weight of the burdens on his shoulders. 

“How many times is your name in today?” he asks quietly. 

“20” I answer, twiddling a blade of grass between my fingers and refusing to meet his gaze. “You?” 

“Just 42” he says with a smirk. 

That is what I like about Gale. He isn’t going to go soft on me. He isn’t going to cry and ask me for comfort. If he is going to march to the gallows, he is going to do it with a straight face. It makes it easier for me to follow suit. To take all of the fear, hopes, and sadness and funnel them into anger and resentment.

He pulls a roll out of his bag and breaks it in two. 

“Where did you get that?” I exclaim, grasping my half and shoving it into my mouth. 

“Traded for it with the Baker this morning” he tells me. “I figured I might as well spend my last day wisely. I checked my traps before dawn.” 

He hasn’t eaten his yet and instead just lets it sit in the palm of his hand. “It isn’t right you know” he says. “It isn’t fair that the merchants can sell to the Peace Keepers when they come today but we can’t. That doe might have kept your name from being drawn next year if you could work your own craft but you can’t. Just have to die in a cage like a trapped rat while they sit around the dinner table and watch.” 

“It might not be you” I insist. “It might not even be one of us. We might meet in this same spot tomorrow.”

“Horary” he announces in a mocking tone. “I get to work in the mine until the day they accidently blow me to bits instead.” 

I can’t argue with that so I don’t. We just sit there hoping that one of us won’t have to come back and do this alone. My eyes wander to his hands and I think about taking one of them. He is my best friend and this may be the last time we are alone together. It makes sense to reach out to him, to offer and receive some kind of human connection. Minutes pass and I keep my hands to myself. 

We live in what is arguably, one of the worst houses in the Seam. It has always been tiny and cold but after my father died it fell into even worse disrepair. I have done my best to patch it as time and weather have worn it down, but I also need to go to school, hunt, trade and until very recently, cook, clean, do the laundry and take care of Prim. My mother has started to help with some of those things again but she still drifts in and out of a reliable state from time to time. 

Prim is bathed and in a clean dress and skirt. Her shirt tail sticks out in the back and I smile as I tuck it into place. Still my baby, I think as I tidy her up. My mother has the wash tub filled for me and a blue dress laid out. I have seen it only a few times before, stored away in the trunk of clothes she brought with her from the merchant square. I stare at both the garment and its owner with discontent. She would pick reaping day of all times to be in a clear frame of mind. I would rather she just be out of it so I could deal with this on my own. 

I sit in the cold water and scrub my hair and face. I don’t know why it matters. I may wash off the layers of coal dust, but not the dark complexion that guarantees that I will never have an option other than to breathe it. When I am dressed, my mother has me sit at the kitchen table while she arranges my hair into elaborate braids. Super glad I am going to look fancy while I watch some of my school mates march to certain death. Dressing up for this is the worst, forcing us through the indignity of pretending it is a holiday. 

When she is finished she has me stand in front of the mirror. It’s grimy and the details aren’t clear, but I can tell that I don’t look like myself. Prim comes to a halt when she sees me. 

“Katniss” she says in awe. “You are so beautiful. I wish I looked like you.”

I shake my head and put my arm around her. 

“No little duck” I say. “You’re the one who is pretty. Every coal miner in the Seam is going to want to marry you someday.”

I don’t say it because I relish the day she will enter that world of foolery. I am trying to remind her that it won’t be her today. She has a long life ahead of her. 

My parents fell in love in high school. Neither of their families approved. My mother was a merchant, the daughter of the owners of the apothecary and my father was Seam. When they got married it was a complete scandal. I do my best not to remember how happy they were together. They should have listened to reason. They never should have gotten married. We aren’t the same kind of people. Now it will be difficult for Prim or I to take a husband. No one from town is going to want a Seam girl with no connections or income. Seam folk hate the merchants and are unlikely to want to take on a half blood. It doesn’t matter to me. I am never getting married. It is something I will have to work out for Prim though. If I am still around to do it. 

“Your sister is right” my mother says. “You are growing into such a beautiful woman Katniss.”

I turn in the mirror and notice that the curve of my breasts, while still modest, have become more pronounced. I ignore her words and slump my shoulders forward. I don’t want to be a beautiful woman or have a bigger chest. I just want to hunt with Gale and trade in the hob. I want to do the things I am good at. I don’t know about woman things. Putting up with my monthly bleeding has been bad enough these past couple of years. I can’t handle anything more complicated happening. 

The square is packed by the time we get there and I roll my eyes at Gale as he gestures to the crowd while we stand in the registration line. We never understand why people come so early. Are they in some kind of a rush to see who gets to die this year? I don’t even notice when they prick my finger. I am too busy worrying about how upsetting this whole thing will be for Prim. She has never had to do it before so as soon as I can, I help her get to the young girl’s section and make sure that she has a friend to stand next to before making my way to my own hoard of potential corpses. 

I stand on my tip toes and try to catch Gale in the crowd. I don’t locate him until right before Effie Trinket takes the stage. She is wearing high heels and the most ridiculous wig I have ever seen. I can’t imagine how she could not know how stupid she looks. I guess it is important to dress a certain way when you are traveling around the country picking out which children will be sacrificed for the greater good of the nation. She appears to be in genuinely good spirits, despite the dark nature of her task until Haymitch Abernathy, district twelves only living victor, shows up late and nearly falls off of the stage from drunkenness. Wanting to be completely out of it at this event is clearly unacceptable. 

She starts the video the capital forces us to watch explaining the dark days and the origin of the Hunger Games and I meet Gale’s eyes across the crowded square again. He winks at me and mouths the words by heart. I try not to laugh. For a moment, I allow myself to believe that everything will be fine. Miss Trinket will draw the names out of the bowl, they won’t be anyone I am particularly close too. We will watch some family walk out of here in agony and get on with our lives. It will be fine, just fine. 

I manage to convince myself of this for about one minute. When the audio being piped in by our far-off overlords comes to an end and Miss Trinket steps up to the platform my heart begins to race. Don’t be me! Be anyone other than me! I’m frightened, every bit as scared as any other girl standing in formation who may have been born for destruction. 

“Ladies first” she announces in a sing song voice. She reaches in and allows her fingers to filter through the slips for a few moments of torture before settling on one and opening it. Hers eyes focus on the name and my teeth clench; my muscles seize up and my breathing screeches to a halt. 

“Primrose Everdeen” she announces. 

I am almost happy for a split second. I was so expecting it to be my name that was read. I never seriously considered that it might be Prim. It doesn’t make sense in my head. Her name was only in the bowl once dammit. 

I am aware that my legs are moving as I watch my terrified little sister make her way to the podium. The crowd is silent, faces grim. There is no chance that this skinny twelve-year-old is coming home. She is a dead man walking. 

“I volunteer” I hear. The voice is loud, desperate, ringing in my head. 

I don’t even fully grasp that it is mine until I am hoisted onto the stage and I turn to face the crowd. Their faces have changed. They are still grave, but now with a determination to see things through. They aren’t staring at the ground. They are looking right at me. I hold my chin up high and a few of them nod. Effie is thrilled to have a volunteer but not for the same reasons as my district. I am glad to be restoring a sense of pride, however misguided it may be. 

I don’t have time to hope that it won’t be Gale. I don’t see her reach into the reaping bowl. I am so consumed by the enormity of what lies before me that I completely forget that I am not the only tribute being selected until I hear her voice bellow out the name. 

“Peeta Mellark” she declares with a smile. 

“What?” I scream. At least I think I do. It must be in my head though because she doesn’t turn to look at me. Not him. Anyone but him. 

His blond hair falls into eyes as he makes his way forward. They face us toward each other on the stage and have us shake hands. It is a sick gesture because everyone knows that there is no such thing as a district partner. One way or another, only one person comes home alive. 

His grip is strong, but I note the tremble in his arm. I feel a misery begin to form in my stomach. Facing a field of other tributes and collection of game maker horrors was bad enough. This is a situation even more untenable. In order to get home to my sister, I may well have to kill the person responsible for me having lived long enough to volunteer and spare her.


	2. Leaving 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss says farewell to her family and boards the train. Peeta begins to prepare for the games while Katniss resists his attempts to form a district partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who read and left feedback on my first chapter. It is good to be back. I will do my best to update this story regularly. I wanted to give this to you Friday but I was traveling over the weekend. 
> 
> We got our first taste of this Katniss in the first chapter and now we will get a chance to meet Peeta too.

Saying goodbye to my family and friends would be more awful if I wasn’t in such a state of shock. I know this is really happening, but I can’t muster the feelings that should accompany it. I spend my time with my sister trying to convince her that I will be coming back. When my Mother comes in I tell her that I surely won’t and that she absolutely cannot fall back into a state of depression. I need her to understand that she is all that Prim has left. 

I’m not able to let my guard down until Gale comes in. He pulls me into his arms the second he is in the room. We have never hugged like this and I am grateful that I have him. He is the only person I don’t have to be strong for. He knows as well as I do what my odds are. I don’t have to pretend otherwise. 

“You can do this Katniss” he tells me. “You know how to shoot. Show them and they will give you a bow. It doesn’t matter to them who wins, as long as it is a good show.” 

His words are confident but his eyes are sad. He wants to believe that I can win but it isn’t that simple. The reality of the games is staring us in the face. District twelve has only ever had two winners and neither of them have been recent. 

When his time is up they pull him out of the room. I sit and wait until they are ready to board the train. No one else comes for me. Not that I expected them to. I run my hand along the ornate armrest of my chair. I wonder how long the line is to see Peeta. I would expect the whole merchant square has turned out. He is popular at school and will be well missed. His father is also the nicest man in the district…maybe all of Panem. 

It doesn’t happen very often, someone from town being reaped. Their conditions aren’t as bad as those of us from the Seam and they don’t often resort to taking tesserae. It is one of the reasons we despise them so much. If we need a sacrifice to appease the capital, every kid should stand an equal chance of being the victim. I have always been so focused on the unfairness of it, that I hadn’t really considered that the odds don’t matter much once they draw your name. It is does not matter that Peeta’s parents own the bakery. Where we are going, he is just another tribute from an outlying district. I wonder if he knows that everything that has always made him special is about to disappear. 

When the door opens again it is a peacekeeper who grabs my arm and brings me to my feet. I am hurried down a long corridor and then out the back of the justice building. It registers in my mind as we travel the short distance to the train station that this is my first ride in an automobile. I glance over at Peeta and see red eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Great, he has been crying. They have been filming us this entire time, they always do for the reaping day footage. Now the whole country knows what a weakling he is. I hope the notion doesn’t reflect on me too. 

When we board the train, Effie Trinket shuffles to the front to make some “very important arrangements.” Haymitch disappears as well. Most likely to find more booze or to pass out from those he has already imbibed. I glance around the dining car in a fog of amazement. The furniture is plush and soft to the touch. Glass jars and bottles of various shapes and sizes line the counter, all filled with colorful liquids and candies. Artwork the likes of which I have never seen adorns the walls and a chandelier twinkles over a table covered with more food than my family eats in a month. 

I don’t snap out of it until Peeta rushes past me and starts to dig in. When he bites into a chicken leg, the smell hits me like a wave. It finds the place inside of me which stands forever empty and unlocks the key to long denied voracious hunger. I practically knock the chair over in my effort to join him. I shove food into my mouth at a dangerously rapid rate. A few times, I start to cough before I manage to get it down. 

“Hey” Peeta says after a few minutes. “Hey Katniss” he repeats. 

My name sounds strange on his lips. Like I have never heard anyone say it quite the same way before. I keep my head down and concentrate on eating. His hand comes over and touches my shoulder and I yank away. 

“Don’t touch me” I sneer immediately. 

I don’t take well to be handled by others and I know better than to ever be anything less than vicious towards the attentions of a man. I have seen women trade the only thing that they have at the hob and I know the girls who line up a Cray’s door. They were all my friends before I started disappearing into the woods. 

“I’m sorry” he stammers, backing away. “I just wanted to warn you to slow down. We aren’t used to eating like this and it will likely make us sick. That’s not a good way for us to start out.”

My eyes travel his body up and down, trying to assess what his advice is all about. Is he really attempting to help me? To do the district alliance thing for as long as it can last? Or is this some way of asserting an advantage early? Gain the trust of the Seam girl by making it seem like you care. I’m not sure what his motivations are but I know that his reasoning is sound. When I first started hunting we had meat for the first time in so long that it sickened us a few times until we got used to being nourished again.

I push back from the table and he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. I follow suit and he laughs a little. I shoot him a glare and he realizes his error. We aren’t friends. We will never be friends. We merely have to tolerate each other for a short time. 

I stalk off towards the direction I saw Effie go and quickly realize that I have no idea where I am going. The narrow corridor is empty as I pass door after door of silence. My footsteps fall into a lighter tread as a sense of foreboding descends. I most likely I am not permitted to be up here. I almost turn back before it dawns on me that it doesn’t really matter. What are they going to do…kill me prematurely? 

I see a soft glow and move towards it. I scoot as close as I can without being seen, my back pressed up against the wall. I can make out the silhouette of two peacekeepers and the barely audible sound of their whispered conversation. 

“No idea when this thing is going to be able to move…they are at it again…just won’t give up on it…never seen it this bad before.”

They have my full attention and I lean in further in an attempt to make out the words more clearly when my foot slips. I catch myself but I thud against the wall and they start at the noise. I am rushing back to where I came from before they can even search after me. 

I find Peeta still in the dining car, scratching out a rough map of Panem in a notebook. I raise my eyebrows. 

“An avox gave it to me” he offers by way of explanation. “It seems like you can ask them for pretty much anything and they will fetch it for you.”

“Great” I spit at him. “I’ll just ask them for a shotgun.” 

He chuckles for a moment until he realizes that I am not joking. He gulps and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he does so before he turns back to his work. I glance over and see that he has started making notes of all of the historical strengths and weaknesses of the tributes from every district. He doesn’t plan on going down without a fight and he isn’t stupid either. 

Effie returns a short time later and shows me to my room. There are pajamas folded on the enormous bed. I pick them up and toss them to the floor. I’m not wearing those death shrouds. The bed linens reek of some kind of artificial floral scent and I feel nauseous. I just want to go home. I want the smell of coal and the threadbare blanket I share with my sister. My homesickness doesn’t triumph over my exhaustion very long. 

The next morning, I stay in my room and hope they will bring me a tray. I don’t hear from anyone. Good, I’ll just hide in here until they force me to come out. The longer I pace, the more I know that this is a bad idea. It is making me stir crazy and it is also giving Peeta a head start. He isn’t sulking around his room. He is probably out there having a big breakfast and pumping anyone he can get ahold of for tips and information. He is giving them that gorgeous smile and laying on the charm. He is playing the game and playing it hard. 

I am proven right when I find him in the dining car seated next to a surprisingly awake Haymitch. Peeta pours him more coffee as I approach the buffet table and fill my plate. 

“Lay off kid” our mentor complains. “There is no use in dragging me out here this early. We have plenty of time to discuss your imminent departure from this world.”

I can tell my fellow tribute is growing impatient with the old man. I take my seat and refuse to look at either of them. 

“You are our MENTOR” Peeta emphasizes. “We need your help. You need to advise us. Tell us how to get sponsors.”

Haymitch stops chomping on his toast and rubs his face in his hand. 

“You aren’t getting it” he states. “You have no chance of getting out of this alive. There is nothing I can do to change that. So just eat up, and try to enjoy the rest of adventure, short as it may be.”

I expect Peeta to slink back in defeat, I know I want to. But as Haymitch reaches for his flask, Peeta grabs it and throws it across the room. 

“Hey!” Haymitch growls. 

“Knock it off” Peeta commands. 

His tone surprises everyone at the table, perhaps even himself. 

“Katniss is good” he says, motioning to me. 

My eyes shoot daggers at him and my defenses begin to rise. What is this nonsense he is up to? Bringing my name into the conversation.

“She can hunt” he continues with enthusiasm. “She can shoot a bow. My father buys her squirrels. She gets them through the eye every time. She is your chance. District twelve might have a winner this year.”

He has our mentor intrigued or rather maybe I do. I can tell he still sizing me up, but for the first time we have his full attention. Peeta is staring at me too and their level of interest has me flustered. 

“Peeta…he might…be good too” I stammer. 

Haymitch snorts and shakes his head. 

“No” I say, more than a little angered by his easy dismissal. “He is really strong. He can haul 100-pound bags of flour all the way from the train station and then throw them over his head. I’ve seen it.”

Peeta is looking at me like my assertion is crazy. 

“That doesn’t matter” he insists. “I’m not going to be able to bowl them over with baking supplies.”

“He is a wrestler” I continue, directing my words to Haymitch. “The best one in our whole school. He only lost one match last year.”

Haymitch raises his eyebrows and looks back to Peeta for a response. 

“Yeah” he snorts. “What she fails to mention is that the match I lost was for the championship.”

“Yes” I agree. “But you lost to your brother and he graduated at the end of the year so now you are the best wrestler in our school.”

Haymitch stifles a laugh and stands up from the table. 

“As much as I’d like to stay here and bask in this little love fest” he says. “I need a nap if I am going to possibly endure much more of your mush.”

I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment from how much I have revealed that I have noticed about Peeta Mellark. 

Just before he reaches the door he turns his head back towards us.

“We start training tomorrow” he says. “If we ever get the hell out of here.”

I breathe a sigh of relief that he has agreed to help us, but can’t help but notice his muttered words as he stumbles down the hall. 

“Now they’re sending me wrestlers and huntresses with crushes on each other. Ridiculous, entertaining, but it has possibilities….”

Peeta and I sit in an awkward silence. 

After a time, my curiosity gets the better of me and I have to ask. 

“What did he mean?” I whisper. 

Peeta turns and cocks an eyebrow at me. 

“What did he mean?” I repeat a little louder. “Haymitch, what was he talking about?” 

Peeta turns his head with a shy smile. 

“I don’t really know” he murmurs nervously. “I mean to think that he would even imagine that you and I would…” He gestures to me and then back to himself. 

“That’s not what I was talking about” I snap, all of my embarrassment coming flooding back to me. 

Peeta looks confused. 

“Don’t you ever speak that way to me” I accuse. “I’m not one of your slag heap girls and there is nothing I need from you. You got that merchant?” 

Hurt flashes in his eyes and I know a moment of regret. That wasn’t necessary. Haymitch had brought it up, not Peeta and my question was vague. He probably had no idea what I was asking about. I am being too hard on him but the weight of the past day’s events is sitting heavy on me and I need someone to take it out on. 

“The other part” I managed to get out. “He said if we get out of here. What was he talking about?” 

Peeta moves to a small couch a few feet away from me but nods. 

“Oh that” he says. “He was talking about the train. How we haven’t left yet.”

“Haven’t left?” I echo. 

“Yeah” he tells me. “They were in such a hurry to get us on here but the train hasn’t even pulled out of the station.”

I stand up in confusion and make my way to the windows I have refused to look out of. When I pull up the dark covering I see that he is right. We are still in district twelve. 

“Weird isn’t it” he observes. “The train always leaves right away and a whole day is going to pass and we haven’t moved on.” 

He can see the questions in my eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to feel it moving or not either” he continues. “I asked Effie about it this morning. She said they are having technical issues but that we should be leaving soon. She is really worried that we are getting off schedule.” 

I nod, even though his words fall far short of a real explanation and retreat to my room. I come out only for lunch and dinner, both of which are awkward, solemn affairs in which two kids who are soon to die are finally served the food they have always needed to stay alive by people the Capital has tortured so much they probably wish they would have died sooner. Peeta tries to start a conversation several times but eventually gives up. I am clearly refusing to speak to him and the avoxes can’t. 

It isn’t until I have laid down for the night that I feel the train start to move. Whatever the problem was, they must have figured it out. In a day or so, we will be in the Capital. After a time, I hear a tap on my door. I stand in front of it and sigh, trying to decide if I should talk to him or not. I know who it is. Haymitch is drunk or passed out and the avox who has been attending me doesn’t knock. 

He looks excited which is unbelievably annoying. I cock my head to the side in question. 

“Hey” he says. “The train is moving.”

“I noticed” I say. Silence stretches between us again. 

“Well” he begins. “I thought you might want to talk or strategize or something.”

An attendant eyes us as he walks down the hall and Peeta has to move out of the way so that he can get through. I look in both directions but see no one else. I don’t like the idea that other people could be listening to us. I pull him into my room and close the door. 

“Look Peeta” I sigh, sitting on the edge of my bed. “I Shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier, but this isn’t going to work.”

“What?” he asks incredulously. 

“This” I say in exasperation, gesturing to his presence in my room. “We can’t get to know each other. We can’t be a team or work together or anything.”

“Why not?” he questions. “The careers do it all the time. It seems like it would give us an advantage.”

“It will just make it harder” I tell him. He keeps staring at me with his puppy dog eyes. I can’t imagine why he doesn’t understand. “It’s just going to make it worse when we have to kill each other.” 

He takes a step back, a look of surprise mixed with horror at my words. I want to slap the expression off his face. It isn’t like murdering a kind boy who once saved my life is my idea. It is just the nightmarish reality I am living in. He opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but I will never know what it would have been. Because at that moment our world is rocked by an enormous noise and both of us are blasted to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story is going to take a dramatically different turn. These first two chapters have followed The Hunger Games story pretty closely, but from here on out it will be a new adventure. 
> 
> Peeta wants to form a partnership and get through things together. Katniss wants to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Katniss has a lot of strong feelings about the Merchant class and they color how she sees him. She is also very uncomfortable with their limited past and how he gave her the bread. 
> 
> I welcome any thoughts or feedback on this chapter, especially the ending conversation and this dilemma of working and preparing with someone who ultimately has to be a rival and enemy.


	3. From the Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta are sure that at least one of them is headed to certain death aboard the tribute train. A twist of fate gives them a chance at an alternate outcome, but what exactly that will be is still completely uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to post this chapter as this is where the story turns off of the known path. I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback after you read.

The world is a hazy ball of heat and I can’t open my eyes. I will them to open but they refuse. I can feel sweat pouring off my skin…and motion, a swaying back and forth that is foreign and yet distantly familiar. I hear the muffled crunch of footsteps on the forest floor but I know that they aren’t mine. My legs are not moving. I hear the sound of my name but as if someone is calling it from a distance. 

With enormous effort, I managed to lift my eyelids and immediately shut them again. They are burning from a wave of smoke. I cough a few times and am conscious that someone else is coughing too. Each time I hear it, my body is slightly shaken. 

The next time I manage to open my eyes I see the burning remains of train cars, strewn about the tracks as if they were the toys of a hateful child. We are some distance from the blaze and it gives the trees an eerie glow. I’m not as hot as I was before, I have been moved away from the inferno. When I turn my head I see his face: Peeta. I am in his arms and he is carrying me further and further away from harm. 

A million questions shoot through my brain. What happened? Where is everyone else? Why did he save me? I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath. I need to think clearly. My life may depend on it. I look back at the wreckage and scan to see if anything else is moving. Trying my best to determine if there are any other survivors. I see no one. Good, there won’t be anyone to follow me. 

Peeta takes a few more steps before dropping us both to the ground. He is gasping for breath as his eyes meet mine. He appears to be relieved at finding me awake and then his expression turns into a wince. He reaches for his left leg and his face turns to anguish as he repositions it. I notice burn marks on his clothes and a trickle of blood running down from one of his ears. He is hurt badly. I look at my own clothes and skin and note some minor burn damage. I was on fire at one point and so was he, only I was unconscious. We were in immediate danger and he took the time to extinguish my dress and carry me out of the flames. Peeta Mellark has saved my life again. 

My mind flashes back to that awful day so many years ago. I was exhausted and drenched to the bone. I had been trying all day to sell some old baby clothes for a scrap of food. No one had even looked at me. I had nothing of value to trade. I didn’t even have Cray as an option because I wasn’t old enough to attract his attention. I sat under the tree, and stared into the downpour. I couldn’t go home empty handed. I couldn’t bear the sight of my starving sister and the mother that might as well already be dead. 

I heard the back door open. Even through the rain, I caught the scent of freshly baked bread. It would have made the hunger worse if I was capable of feeling anything. I heard the Baker’s wife screaming. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, it was widely known that the woman was prone to fits of rage. A boy stumbled out, his shoulders hunched and his arms raised, doing his best to fend off her blows. I squinted to see him better. He was my age in school, all blonde curls and bright smiles. 

I wondered absently if he would see me. He turned to ensure that the door was closed behind him and then looked straight into my eyes. I was confident that he not only saw me, but that had been aware of my presence long before he had been shown the door. He walked over to the pig pen, never once losing eye contact. When he reached the gate, he pulled out a large loaf of bread that had been tucked under his arm and lifted it for my appraisal. My heart clenched. What I wouldn’t do for what he was about to feed to livestock. He looked back to the house once more before pivoting to toss it into my lap. 

I was so shocked that I didn’t move right away. I just stared at the bread as if I wasn’t sure what it was. By the time I looked up he was gone and his witch of a mother was screeching at him again. I pulled the loaf into my jacket and ran straight home. I fed my family that night. The bread gave me sustenance at a critical juncture, but more than that, what Peeta did gave me hope to continue living. I kept fighting because of that day.

I never thanked him. I tried to, but I didn’t know what to say. I had never needed to respond to kindness from a stranger before, especially not from a merchant. Now here we are 5 years later and he has endured more pain to give me what was needed. 

His breathing has become more labored, despite the short rest we have taken and his eyes are starting to drift closed. No, no no. I can’t let him fall asleep or lose consciousness. With his stocky build, I will never be able to carry or drag him. They will be coming soon to respond to the crash and we will be found for sure. I peer into the dark forest and then back at Peeta’s struggling form. I know what we need to do. 

I manage to get my feet under me and after a few moments my dizziness subsides. I reach down to help him up. We don’t get far when his leg gives out. The burst of adrenaline that allowed him to clear us from the initial blaze has ebbed and the injury he sustained is starting to take its toll. I drop down beside him and move him to his back. As gently as I can, I roll up what is left of his charred pantleg. A layer of skin comes with it and it is all I can do not to vomit. 

“How did this happen?” I say, more to myself than to Peeta. 

“Sorry” he manages. “I know it’s bad. I should have been more careful but the fire was getting so close to you and I panicked.”

My heart sinks. He didn’t get this burn in the explosion. He got it coming back for me. 

“It’s ok” I tell him, trying to sound lighter than what the situation truly calls for. 

He isn’t buying it. I have no idea how to treat the injury and I have nothing clean to wrap it in. I lower his pant leg again, doing my best to ignore the agony in the sound that escapes him as I do. We get him to his feet again and keep moving. Our pace is slow and he stumbles to the ground a few times before shaking his head and waving for me to go on ahead. 

“No” I tell him. “Not a good idea Peeta, they could find you and I’m not sure I could navigate back to this exact spot even if I found something to treat it with.”

His voice fills with a sad yearning. 

“It’s alright Katniss” he says. “Go. If you get moving now they will never catch up with you.”

At first, I don’t take his meaning. 

“I know” I say impatiently. “That’s why we have to keep moving. I’m tired too but if we can get a few more miles in we can stop and rest for a while.”

“I’m not going to make it a few more miles” he says. His voice is calm and steady and it arouses my anger. 

“Yes you are Peeta” I insist. I reach for his hand to pull him up again. How can he think of giving up at a time like this? We might actually have a chance to get away. 

“I’m slowing you down” he observes. “I can’t walk right and I’m leaving a trail that will be easy to follow. You should go, take to the woods. You will do better if you don’t have to feed me and my leg is bad. I’ll probably die anyway. There is no reason for misery to have company.”

He takes my hand and runs his thumb against it. “Katniss listen, you don’t owe me anything. I’m glad you are going to make it. This is…it’s a better outcome than either of us could have hoped for. You’ll be free and you won’t even have to…you won’t have to be a monster just to keep living.”

His grip is getting weaker but his hand is steady. The scared boy who cried after the reaping has disappeared. I am unsure of the man who is touching me now. He built a strong case for me to venture out on my own. Given his full permission for me to continue the journey. It is clearly wiser for me to go it alone. 

He is wrong about one thing though. I wouldn’t escape the capital morphing me into one of them. If I leave Peeta now, I will never be able to consider myself a decent person. I drop down beside him. 

“Peeta, I need you to listen to me and listen good” I tell him firmly. “I am not doing that. I’m not leaving you. If we don’t make it then we don’t but I’m not going to take off into the woods and spend the rest of my life wishing that I would have stayed.” 

We don’t talk much after that. The hours that follow are painful. Neither of us are in any shape to travel and the distance we manage to cover is hard won. Peeta can no longer bear any weight on his injured leg and has to lean on me heavily. Now that the initial shock has worn off, I am starting to regain feeling in my body. The burns on my arm are excruciating but I don’t want Peeta to see how much I am struggling. If he knew how badly the pulling on my skin felt, he would no longer be willing to accept help from me. 

My throat feels like a desert and my lungs are burning for oxygen by the time we stumble into a clearing. I have been following the sound of rushing water for some time and when I look to my left I see the blessed source. A large river flows in front of us and just a short distance up the jagged rocks, a beautiful waterfall. 

A smile comes across my face, while I gasp for breath. Peeta gives me a questioning look. 

“It’s perfect” I offer in way of explanation. “We can clean your wound and hide. They won’t see us, hear us, or be able to follow our tracks.” 

He nods and puts his arm around my shoulders again. Climbing to it is very difficult, but seeing the source of some kind of respite gives us both renewed energy. When we reach the banks of the pool at the base of the falls, he flops down on one of the large stones and then slides to the edge of the water. I help him position himself so that he can drink from a cupped hand, before practically shoving my face into the pool myself. It takes several minutes for us to drink our fill before we pull back to sit on the river bank. 

“Should we just put it in?” I ask, gesturing to the large burn on his leg. 

He shakes his head.

“No” he informs me. “It’s too big and deep. We are going to have to get a clean cloth and dab it.” 

I am unsure how he knows this, but he seems confident and it is his wound so I take his word for it.

I sigh. “Ok, so how are we going to do that?” 

As I turn around I see that he is removing his shirt. I turn away and cover my mouth with my hand. Is he really taking his clothes off? I try to give him another look, but can’t meet his eyes. His shirt is off now and he is struggling to remove his pants too. 

“Katniss?” he asks, annoyance starting to seep into his voice. “Hey, are you going to help me here or what?” 

“Yeah…sure…yes” I stutter. I back up just enough to stretch my hand out behind me and reach for the shirt he has discarded. 

“Oh” I hear him say, as if he has just made a discovery. “Katniss, you can look at me. I don’t care if you see me in my underwear, no big deal.”

How can he be so casual about it? I’ve seen him in his wrestling uniform before I guess and that was tight and revealed some of what I am seeing now, but that was in the school gymnasium with all of our classmates. I wasn’t alone with him. 

“Well I do care” I snap and snatch the shirt away from him. 

I wade into the water, small cuts and burns stinging with sharp pains all over my lower body. I wash it as thoroughly as possible in the absence of soap and by the time I have finished he is sitting in his boxers on the river bank trying his best not to smile at me. The expression is short lived as I go about the gruesome task of cleansing his wound. 

He closes his eyes tight and holds his breath each time I press the cloth against it. I rinse it out and repeat several times. 

“Go ahead and scream. I won’t think any less of you” I tell him honestly. 

He shakes his head, bracing for another round of my crude medical treatment. I’m impressed. I’ve seen grown men pass out over less than this at my mother’s table back when she served as a healer. He has amazing pain tolerance.

Dabbing the burnt flesh is difficult for me. I’ve never had the stomach for witnessing the pain of others, especially those that I care for. That’s what worries me as I wrap the shirt around his leg for the last time and make strips of the remains of his pants to tie it off. Seeing Peeta like this is affecting me more than it should. I’m worrying about him, assuming he will play a central part in my immediate future. 

There are a few burnt scarps left from his clothing that are unsalvageable and I toss them into the pool and watch the current carry them away. If any evidence of us is ever found, I want it to be a distance away to throw off the search. I shake my hands dry and turn to find Peeta sitting on a large rock watching me and managing through his pain. He gestures to my arm. 

“You need to clean that one too” he reminds me. 

For a moment I don’t say anything. I just stare at his blond locks and pale skin. His blue eyes meet my grey ones but neither of us speak. I lick my lips and let myself appreciate his muscular chest and narrow waist. My heart starts beating so fast that I am sure he can see it through what is left of my reaping dress. Reluctantly, I break the spell by turning back to the pool and bathing my arm. It is small and shallow enough to pour water directly on it and in a few minutes I have cleansed all of the open cuts and burns that I am aware of. 

My arm has begun to bleed again and I know that it needs to be properly covered. I look futilely to Peeta. He has nothing to give me. His shirt and pants have already been used to address his own needs. I glance around the pool and surrounding forest in a panic. I know what I need to do, but I am mortified at the thought. For a moment, I consider just leaving it exposed and hoping for the best. The flow of blood isn’t strong. 

“I think we should hide directly behind it” Peeta says, pointing to the waterfall. “It looks like there is space there. Even if they had dogs this water is going to wash our scent away fast.” 

He meets my eyes and I know that he can see the distress in them. 

“I’m going to head up there now” he says, starting to scoot and crawl from rock to rock as best he can. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

My breaths are coming fast and shallow as I turn back to the task at hand. I shouldn’t have let him leave. He ought not be on his own. Still, I am grateful for the privacy he has afforded me. I tie the blue ribbon around my middle tight, ensuring that it will keep the skirt of my dress firmly around me before I slip my arms out of the top of it. The short sleeves hang loose against my body as I run my finger along one of the rips the material sustained during either the initial crash or the flight that followed. I take ahold of it tightly and yank with all my might. It takes a few pulls and tears but I eventually get the material I need to make a dressing for my arm. 

I am shaking as I climb towards the waterfall and my teeth begin to chatter. Hopefully, I can pass it off purely as a reaction to the cool wet mist. The last thing I want is for him to know just how afraid I am of him seeing me this way. Every instinct I have is telling me to cover up, but I have no option to do so. On any other day I would still have my camisole, but because my mother insisted on me wearing this silly dress, I am about to stand face to face with Peeta Mellark wearing my mother’s bra. 

I find him in a small cavern directly behind the falling water. It is moist but not as wet as I thought it would be. He is sitting with his legs stretched before him and his back against the stone wall. When he sees me his expression is welcoming, but as I come closer it changes to concerned. I sit down beside him. 

“Katniss” he says, reaching over and placing a hand just a whisper above my shoulder. “You’re so skinny.”

I jerk away immediately and feel a shot of pain straight to my heart. I cross my arms over my chest. It is all I can do not to run away and never come back. I would if I thought it was an option. I didn’t think that I wanted him to desire me, but his rejection is devastating. I can’t hide my humiliation and tears begin to sting my eyes. It’s not just my small breasts or overly prominent bones. I feel as though my whole existence is being laid bare before him. My poverty, suffering, hunger, and despair. He is judging me and finding me lacking. Since the reaping he has been looking at me as though I were someone of strength to admire. Now he can see the truth. He knows I am a fraud. I’m a walking skeleton from the Seam. A girl who was always meant to die young. A life that is worth less than nothing to the world it was born into. 

“I didn’t…” he begins, seeing the way effect his words have had. “Katniss…I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just worried about you. I see you hunt all the time. You trade game to my father. I thought you were eating better. If I would have known I would have…”

He stops mid-sentence and looks at me. His eyes are pleading for forgiveness. I can see that he wasn’t trying to be mean. I’m no less embarrassed, but he was just making an observation and one that is accurate. I know my situation and I guess he does now too. I can see how hopeless it is. How little I am worth. But the last thing I want is to have it pointed out by the cute boy who has twice saved my life and who I am now trapped with in nothing but my underthings. 

I sigh. He is a merchant. He has no idea the insult he has caused. I sit back down, but with my back to him. I’m exhausted and can hardly afford to run from him at this point. He tries to speak to me again several times but I give him the silent treatment. I try to get comfortable but it is little use and every time I allow myself to relax my teeth begin to chatter. I clamp them together so that he will not notice. 

When I steal a glance at him I realize that I didn’t need to worry. He is sound asleep, his head resting back against the wall. My stomach growls and I let my teeth chatter away. No one to conceal it from apparently. I’m curled up on my side, doing my best to maintain the little warmth my skin and bones generate when I hear him clear his throat. 

“Come and sit with me” he says. “It’s not going to get any warmer and we need to share our body heat.”

My jaw drops open. He cannot be serious. I am not cuddling half naked with him. 

He rolls his eyes. He has already picked up how to read me. 

“Don’t be stubborn” he says, opening his arms. “I’m not asking you to the winter formal. This is a life or death situation and we need to do what is practical.”

I don’t move. 

“Katniss!” he says in a louder voice. “You’re freezing and you are going to get sick. Just get over here. I won’t tell anyone. I know you don’t want this getting back to Gale.”

That gives me pause. He’s right of course. I definitely don’t want Gale giving me grief over this. But it seems odd hearing Gale’s name from Peeta. Like I cannot reconcile a world in which they coexist. I consider his offer for a few more seconds before hefting myself up. His reasoning is sound and the ground is horribly uncomfortable. All things considered, he is being the calm and rational one. This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two animals trying to stay alive. 

I position myself carefully between his legs. My back is stiff, every cell in my body at alert at his proximity. He allows my hesitance for a short time before giving me a sigh of his own and pulling my back against his chest. I am frozen in shock. His flesh immediately begins to warm my back, including my bottom which is resting against his crotch. His hands rub life back into my arms before wrapping around my middle. He chuckles a bit at my obvious discomfort before completely enraging me by promptly falling asleep. 

His head falls forward and his mouth finds rest on the side of my neck. The strangest feeling flutters through my belly. I want to fight him but the heat radiating off of his skin is like a drug. Despite never feeling more out of my element in my entire life, I join him in sleep a short time later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This chapter leaves us in a totally different place then where we ended at the close of the last one. 
> 
> Katniss went into this journey without really knowing how tough Peeta is. He definitely showed some bravery and grit in this chapter. 
> 
> Katniss has been pretty short and impatient with Peeta up to this point, but when push comes to shove in this chapter she does the right thing by staying by his side, even when he encourages her to leave. 
> 
> Peeta mentions Katniss not wanting sleeping so close to him getting back to Gale. He clearly means this in one way and Katniss is taking it in another. 
> 
> Having to be in minimal clothing with Peeta is completely out of Katniss's comfort zone. Peeta knows this and tries to handle the situation well. He gives her space to change on her own and is very practical in his approach to the sleeping arrangements. He really blows it with the comment of her being so skinny though (not that I blame him, he did not mean to offend or hurt her). Katniss has a strong reaction to this situation that highlights the deep vulnerabilities she has. Interested in your thoughts on this or anything from this chapter.


	4. Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta and Katniss do their best to survive the days following the crash of the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone. Sorry it took me a little while to update. Things in real life have been very hectic for me and it is difficult to find time to write. 
> 
> We have the stage set for adventure now so let's see how Katniss and Peeta cope with their difficult circumstances following the crash. Katniss was dead set against an alliance when she knew only one of them can leave the arena. It will be interesting to see how things evolve now that there is an opportunity for both of them to live. 
> 
> Please leave me your thoughts and comments if you have a chance. I love to hear from you.

When I come to again, I immediately wish that I wouldn’t have. My body is warm but my feet are freezing and my head kills. The past few days come back to me in a rush and the weight of the events almost makes me pass out again. In a very short time, I have gone from facing Prim’s first reaping day, to heading to my inevitable death in the capital, to sleeping almost naked with Peeta Mellark. I know that I should get up, but I struggle to find the energy. Peeta is still asleep so I don’t have to deal with facing him yet and he is so warm. So very very warm. Too warm. 

I reach behind me and put a hand on his forehead. Shit, he has a fever. I knew his leg was going to get infected. Now I know I need to get up. I wriggle out of his grasp and push his head back to rest against the wall. His eyes flutter open for a moment and he grins at me. “Katniss” he murmurs and tries to reach for me. I still his hands and smooth his hair. 

“It’s ok” I tell him. “I’m going to go out for a few minutes and then I will be right back.” 

He is clearly out of it. It’s all for the best. He is in no position to be of any help to me and there is no point in distressing him over things he can’t control. It is strange though, how happy he was to see me. I have no idea why being with me would be good news to him regardless of the circumstances. 

I still don’t have to pee, which is a bad sign. I am fairly confident that dehydration is at least partly to blame for my aching head. I take a quick walk around the area to check for signs of life. I find plenty of evidence of animals but thankfully nothing human. I sit at the pool and drink until I feel sick. It may not be the most comfortable now, but I know it will pay off later. I would bring some to Peeta if I had the means to do so. I have to figure out what we are going to do. 

I go over the most immediate needs first. We need to eat, drink, and I need medicine for Peeta. Once he is well we can decide what to do next. We aren’t very far from district 12, I determine as I venture out into the woods. At least I don’t think so. The train wasn’t moving very long and the landscape and vegetation I encounter are familiar. I have never traveled before, but I have seen the other districts on the holo and many of them appeared to have vastly different climates and terrain. 

I wish I had my bow but that isn’t an option. I also have nothing to fish with. Hell, I don’t even have proper clothing. Before I can get too flustered about it I start to scavenge. Thankfully, I do locate some edible plant life as well as some mushrooms. I am careful not to pick too much. I am limited in what I can carry and I also want to leave as little disturbance as possible for others to find. When I have secured a food source, I also locate the ingredients my mother uses to treat the infections the miners bring to her. 

For once, I can be glad for the woman I normally feel only resentment towards. Since she decided to return to the land of the living over a year ago, she has started to practice healing again and I always gather everything she needs to make the salves and potions that she sells. I can’t hold everything I need to bring back and I am forced into the indignity of using my skirt to haul it. I hate this. I hate dresses and being naked and …well the boy waiting for me back behind the waterfall. 

His condition is worsening, I determine open my return. His brow is sweaty and his eyes don’t meet mine when he opens them. I manage to haul some water up to him in my cupped hands. It isn’t an efficient system, but there is no way that I can move him back down to the pool. He stops and coughs several times, but all in all he takes it fairly well. He won’t swallow the plants that I give him but he does eat a few mushrooms. 

It takes me a while to prepare the medicine. Some of the ingredients have to be ground and I don’t have the tools that I need to mix them properly. I’m also extremely tired. All I want to do is lay down and rest. I force myself to keep going. Peeta will die if I don’t. Suddenly, something that seemed like a predetermined eventuality when we were on the train seems completely unimaginable. I watch the rise and fall of his muscular chest, the blonde curls that have fallen onto his face. I think of coming back to finding him lifeless. A shiver runs down my spine and I dry heave a couple of times. 

I need to get my emotions and imagination under control, I chastise as I finish up the remedies. I wasn’t sure if I should make the drink or the salve so I am treating him with both. Hopefully, it won’t cause an overdose or something but I doubt that is possible with these types of basic home remedies. I just hope they are potent enough to save him. 

I apply the salve first, putting it on thick and grimacing every time he flinches away. I’m hurting him and it causes a sharp ache in my chest. I never wanted this. I just wanted to save my sister and I wanted him to live a good life as far away from me as possible, have a dozen babies with some curvy blonde merchant girl. The idea doesn’t have as much appeal as I thought it would. 

When his leg is sufficiently covered in my homemade paste, I wash his bandage out and wrap it up again. I try to pour some of the potion I mixed into his mouth and he coughs it right back into my face. If circumstances were different I would slap him. I know he is in bad shape but I’m hurt too and my patience is growing thin. I scold him and move to administer it again and he pushes me away. 

He isn’t in the right frame of mind to be reasoned with. I wrack my brain about what might get through to him. I think back to the train and how immediate and determined his desire was for an alliance. Whenever I watch him at school he is always helping a classmate or talking to a friend. Peeta isn’t a loner, he enjoys partnership. I bite my lip as I reach out and take his hand in mine. His eyes flutter open and I adjust the angle so that I can interlace our fingers. 

“Peeta” I call to him. I can see that I have his attention. “I have a plan to get us out of here” hopefully not a complete lie I think to myself. “But your leg is infected and we need to get you better before we can move on. I made you some medicine. I just need you to take it.”

He is looking at me intently now and I reach out with my other hand to smooth his hair. His head leans into my touch. I know how to handle him now. 

“Can you drink this? For me? I really need your help.”

He nods and opens his lips. He drinks, all the while making a face that lets me know that it tastes like death. Gale wouldn’t have given in so easily, but I am quickly learning that Peeta is a different breed. It’s a little unsettling but surprisingly refreshing as well. I may not understand him very well, but he is proving much easier to deal with. 

Peeta drifts back to sleep as soon as he finishes and I feel my remaining energy drain as well. I return to the pool to drink again and then finally squat in the woods. My time spent rehydrating this morning is paying off. By the time I finish the food I brought back the sun is going down. I return to our little haven and curl up in front of Peeta. He is snoring and without hesitation I move his arms around me. My head falls back on his shoulder. My body has been missing this respite all day and I am too exhausted to worry over the implications of it. 

The following days follow much the same pattern. Peeta sleeps most of the time and when he is awake he is weak and of little help other than swallowing food and drinking more water and medicine. Through dual effort, we manage to get him just outside of our hideaway to relieve himself a few times. As the time passes, I am unsure whether or not to be pleased. On one hand, Peeta hasn’t recovered and our diet is meager. On the other, he hasn’t died and the Capital hasn’t found us either. The more time that goes by, the less and less likely it is that they will. 

His mental awareness returns faster than the physical wellbeing of his injured leg. He starts to stay lucid longer and longer and I am able to take him down to the pool to drink and to cleanse his wounds. The nights have turned thick and muggy which is bad for keeping his dressing dry, especially as moist as the cavern gets at times. But it is a huge relief for me as I am no longer willing to sleep in Peeta’s arms as he travels the road to recovery. Given the rising temperatures, I can navigate sleeping on the rock floor on my own. 

“They must have given up looking for us by now” I say one day as we try to pass the time by skipping stones along the pool. We have to combat boredom now that Peeta is well enough to take care of himself but not enough to travel long distances. 

“If they ever did” he answers. 

His words take me off guard. “Of course, they did” I retort. “They wouldn’t risk anyone whose name was pulled from a reaping bowl being left alive.” 

He shakes his head. “You saw that wreck Katniss. How big and intense the fire was. A mess like that, they might not even count the bodies.” 

I stop to consider this. It makes all this hiding out we have been doing seem pointless. Still, even if we could have known for sure they weren’t coming there isn’t much we could have done differently. 

“Even if they suspected” he continues. “They don’t know you. They have no idea how many survival skills you have. Would have had no reason to believe you have ever been outside of the fence. They probably assumed we were as good as dead anyway.”

I give him a critical scowl. 

“You make it sound like I’m the only one they need to worry about” I accuse. 

“You are” he says as if it is a matter of fact. 

“If it was all up to me, I would have died in the crash” I remind him. 

“I helped for 5 minutes” he concedes. 

“You saved my life” I say quietly, as if the words themselves are fragile. I turn and see those brilliant blue eyes. 

“You knew not to submerge our burns” I say, motioning to his leg. “You…kept me warm. I would have gone crazy without that rest. You traveled all those miles here on a horribly burned leg. I don’t know how…” I am rambling now and I can’t explain why other than that I need him to know how strong he is. How much we are both going to need him in the days ahead. 

I get up and walk to the woods to forage. I need to clear my mind. I have to stop letting him make me feel so much. No one has ever been able to make me weak and I can’t let mister handsome merchant boy do it when I can least afford the luxury. When I return I expect to find him still sitting by the pool. I don’t think he will try to climb to the hideaway on his own although he is certainly getting strong enough to try it. 

I keep my steps light as I reach the clearing. I may be losing my edge, but I can certainly still sneak up on the likes of him. When I clear the last tree and peak over the ledge I freeze. Peeta isn’t sitting by the pool anymore. He is standing in it and he doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on. I should turn around and head straight back into the woods or cough, break a stick or something to get his attention. Instead, I hunker down and put a hand over my heart. 

I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep but deliberately quiet breath. He is taking a bath. He needs one. It has been a long time since either of us was thoroughly clean. It is no big deal, I remind myself. Just a nude man. Very natural. It would be so embarrassing if he saw me. But he didn’t. No reason to be concerned. 

When I calm down, I can still hear him splashing about. I try to picture him in my mind’s eye but my brain is fuzzy on some of the details that have never been clearly revealed to me. This would be an opportunity to appease the curiosity that has been growing ever since he started to recover and I felt his…member…pushing against my backside in his sleep. It would be…educational. Yes, that is it, just a good learning experience. I am 16 years old and I have seen all manner of life and death. It seems only right that I be fully aware of what the male anatomy includes. 

I lift my head just high enough to see him over the rock ledge. His hair is wet and clinging to his face and his muscular arms are on display as he splashes water on and then rubs his neck and chest. He has lost strength since we have been here, but he is still enough to make my mouth turn dry. The hair under his arms is blonde and as my vision moves lower I see that he has hair elsewhere as well. What surrounds his privates isn’t exactly blonde but it is much lighter than what I have. 

I think of my own form and how different we are as I take in the part that makes him a man. I am suddenly squeezing my thighs together for reasons I don’t fully understand. It looks peculiar but not disgusting as I had imagined it would. It doesn’t appear as large as it felt when he was close to me but then I remember that he likely isn’t erect. Having my body close to his is what had caused it to enlarge. The thought does strange things to my breathing and I begin to lose confidence in my ability to stay quiet. He turns and looks around as though he heard something. I hug the ground and slink back to the woods. 

I sit by the base of a tree and wait until my heart slows and the heat disappears from my cheeks. I rub my eyes with my palms and try to block the recent images from my mind. I force my thoughts to solving the puzzle of what to do next. I clearly cannot stay much longer in this hideout with little to do to occupy my time. I am losing it already or I wouldn’t have spied on a naked man. That isn’t something that I would do. I have been working on a plan for a while and when I have figured out how I want to present it to Peeta and am confident that a sufficient amount of time as passed, I climb over the ledge and rejoin him at the pool. 

“How was the scavenging?” he asks. I hand him a few mushrooms. 

“I took a bath” he says, a bright smile on his face. 

I turn my head, my cheeks aflame. I cannot look at him right now. 

“Good” I managed to get out. “You stink.”

My comments don’t spoil his good humor and we eat dinner in relative silence, letting our feet soak in the cool water. 

“I have a plan” I tell him as the sun begins to set. “Do you think you can handle walking for a while tomorrow?” 

He nods. “If you can find me a good walking stick” he tells me. 

I turn my gaze to the horizon. 

“I don’t think we are far from the boarders of 12” I explain. “We can’t go back there. At least not now, but I don’t think it is worth heading towards another district. It could be really far and I may not know the plant or the animal life. We have no supplies and even if we could get to another district, it may be surrounded by a fence that they actually leave on all the time. There are just too many unknows to keep going in that direction. There is a lake, it isn’t that close to 12 but it isn’t far either. There is a cabin there where I keep extra supplies. I stay there sometimes if I need to be out hunting for more than a day. No one else knows about it. If we can somehow make it there, I think I can get what we need to make it through the next few seasons when it gets cold.”

He looks at me as if I were made of gold. He reaches his hand toward me and I am sure that he wants me to take it, his way of agreeing to the plan. I take it in my own but quickly turn it to the side and give it a firm shake. The bargain is sealed. His lip quirks up to the side in a half smile.   
“Let’s do it” he says with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has spent a good portion of her life just surviving and her skills and focus are on display in this chapter. She takes on the most immediate issues and doesn't press herself to solve the huge conundrum of figuring out what their options are in the long term. She just drags them through the first part of the journey and ensures that they have a tomorrow to figure it out in. 
> 
> She also starts to learn more about Peeta and use the insight she has gained to get him to cooperate. But as he begins to recover, she starts to retreat. She isn't willing to sleep close to him once he is no longer incapacitated.
> 
> The scene in which Peeta argues with her that she is the one who saved them and she insists that he played a vital role is interesting. It has implications for both people, how they think of themselves and each other. 
> 
> Katniss spying on him while he bathes cracks me up. All kinds of confusion and awakening happening there. You know those kinds of uncontrollable feelings are going to make her all the more prickly and irritable. 
> 
> Next chapter, trying to make their way to the lake. 
> 
> Would love to hear your feedback on this one.


	5. Heading Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta leave their waterfall haven and start the journey towards the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there. I am giving you another chapter for all you do. Thanks so much to everyone who is following this story. I love to hear your commentary so please leave me your feedback if you have time.

We plan to set out the next day. As soon as we rise, we drink as much as we can from the pool and I gather from the patches that have been supplying our daily food. I want to leave immediately but Peeta insists that we eat first. 

“We can eat on the way” I tell him. 

“You can” he says. “I need to hold the walking stick and I don’t exactly have any pockets. I am pretty sure if I stored anything in my current outfit I wouldn’t want to eat it again.”

At first, I am annoyed. Then I take time to really look at him. Sitting on a rock in the middle of the woods in his underwear eating a handful of mushrooms and some berries. I imagine him stuffing them into his crotch and trying to hobble along. The sound of my laughter breaks the morning air so loudly and suddenly that it surprises me and I almost fall backwards off my perch. This only serves to increase the comical nature of the situation and I laugh harder. Peeta joins in and it is several minutes until we are both calm enough to speak again. 

“I liked that” Peeta says, tossing most of his food into his mouth. 

“What?” I ask, trying to remember that I am a serious person who finds nothing funny about this situation. 

“Hearing you laugh” he tells me. “Laughing with you. In all the years I’ve known you, I didn’t often see you happy.”

“I’m not happy now” I inform him, ending the good-natured exchange between us. “Besides, I was happy lots of times. Just not around you.”

He takes time to consider this. 

“Yes” he agrees. “You were happy sometimes when I would see you with your sister.”

“I was happy when I was in the woods too” I say, although happy isn’t exactly the word I would choose to describe it. I should just leave it at that but something inside of me wants to hurt him. Wants to push him away so that he doesn’t get close enough to hurt me. 

“It’s great to be in the outdoors when you have the right skills and company. Gale and I have been hunting and trapping together since we were kids. We are really in sync and that makes me happy.”

He lowers his eyes. That did the trick. I doubt he is going to be cracking any more jokes today about his big penis and what he wants to do with it. But as we finish our breakfast in silence, I realize two things. First, I have never laughed that way before with Gale. We have certainly smiled and chuckled many times, but it always had a hard edge to it. We were mocking the merchants or the capital or sharing a bitter laugh about the irony of life. We never laughed at ourselves. Second, he never actually talked about his penis or called it big. I was the one who took it there and I added the description. 

When the food is finished we take one last look around. At least I do. When I turn to Peeta I notice that he is just looking at me. I feel like his eyes were mostly taking in my hair and my chest and I scowl at him. His eyes flit away. I guess I can’t be too hard on him. I am still in my bra and the morning is cool, my nipples are pebbled and I know he can see them through the thin material. I was looking at him when he was taking a bath and he hasn’t tried to take advantage of me. 

“So” he begins “You think you can navigate us back to twelve?”

“Me?” I say, my voice rising. “I’m not with the Army Peeta. What makes you think I can do these things?”

“Well I know I can’t” he answers. “I have never been outside of the fence before Katniss.” He says my name with antagonistic emphasis and I am reminded that he has two brothers at home with which to banter. 

I blow out a breath and consider if it is even realistic. 

“Do you think we can trace our own tracks back to the train?” he asks. 

I am appeased that his words no longer put all of the pressure on me and I nod. 

“Ok” he says. “Let’s make our way back. We can try to get an idea of whether or not they are still looking for us and if they aren’t we should be able to follow the tracks back towards the district. We would have to stay under tree cover to be safe, but at least we will know we are heading in the right direction.”

His idea has merit and we head out. It is difficult to determine the route that we traveled. It was dark so there are not landmarks to guide us and we take several wrong paths and have to backtrack. Eventually, we pick up the trail and find the tracks before nightfall. It is amazing how much faster we can travel now that I’m not practically dragging someone twice my size through the dark forest. 

It is obvious when we locate the site of the derailment. The earth is charred and the fire traveled a small distance into the trees. It is eerily quiet except for the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves. There is no one. No excavating crew, no rescue personnel, no Peacekeepers. Not a single remnant of the train remains but the disturbed soil. I can see them in my mind’s eye, the crash scene crawling with first responders and investigators. Cleaning up the bodies, determining the cause of the accident, bringing in heavy equipment to clear the wreckage. They are long gone. The tragedy excused and forgotten. 

It is good news for Peeta and I but it also brings a sense of isolation. They believe us to be dead. No one is coming. We are truly alone. 

We stand in the tree line for what seems like forever, trying to take in the full meaning of this new reality. Eventually, we make our way to the empty tracks. At the center of the burn mark, a large amount of earth appears to be freshly upturned. I fall to one knee and run my hands along rail ties that lack the weather of most of the others. I’ve never spent much time at the train station. Never had any money so I had no reason too. But I know that Peeta has. It is where he goes to pick up the ingredients for his family’s bakery. 

“It’s unusual isn’t it?” I question. “For them to replace track like this?”

He nods as he slowly circles the area. 

“When it happened?” he asks. “When it happened, what did you feel? What did you hear?”

I close my eyes and try to conjure the exact moment. 

“A big noise, like a loud boom and then a giant wave forcing me to the floor.”

He nods again. 

“This is a huge area of disrupted soil and it’s deep. The fire was enormous and immediate. They wouldn’t have to replace a significant section of track if the train cars just came off of it.”

We come to the same conclusion simultaneously, only he gives voice to it.

“This wasn’t an accident” he observes. 

The evening before the crash comes rushing back to me and I tell him about the conversation that I overheard. 

“Someone did it on purpose” I say in wonder. “They blew up the track so that the train wouldn’t make it.” The tribute train. They were trying to sabotage the Hunger Games. 

The thought of rebels both intrigues and frightens me. I am proud that someone had guts enough to stand up to them, but I also know that it is a hopeless gesture. They will be hunted down and killed. No one stands against President Snow. No one who lives to tell about it. 

I hear the call of a bird in the distance and am reminded that we aren’t alone in the world. Just in the knowledge that we still exist. I glance down both lines of the track in suspicion. There is so much about Capital technology and control that we don’t know about. It will be best if we always stay under cover. 

We walk far enough into the trees to be certain that we won’t be easily spotted by train or by hovercraft. Despite this small protection, I still do not think it is safe to start a fire. I’m not confident that I could even if we were guaranteed our sanctuary. We walk until darkness makes it impractical. Tomorrow, we will need to make a point of searching for food along the way. 

I never thought that I would miss the hard stone floor of our waterfall hideaway, but as I twist and turn on the coarse forest floor, I have second thoughts. From the sound of his continued movements, I am guessing that Peeta is fairing no better but he doesn’t complain. I huff in frustration. No matter which way I turn, a rock or stick pokes my bare skin. This would be so much easier if I had my father’s hunting jacket. 

“There was a clearing” Peeta says in the darkness. “We just walked past it, not 2 minutes ago. That might be better.”

“Then they might see us” I remind him. 

“It wasn’t close to the tracks and they won’t be able to if there isn’t any light. It would be less…full of sticks and stuff.”

He has a point, so I stand and we make our way back slowly. We bump into each other a couple of times and his hands come to my waist to steady me. The feel of his big calloused palms on my ribs is strange. I pull away at the tingle of excitement it causes. I remember what they felt like when he rubbed my arms to warm them and I wonder how they would feel resting on the small of my back. My father used to touch my mother that way when they would walk in the meadow together. The image of the doomed lovers makes my stomach lurch. 

When we reach the clearing we are treated to a bed of fresh grass. After a few minutes, the initial irritation caused by the tiny blades subsides and I begin to relax. It is easily the softest thing I have slept on since the reaping. I lay on my back and find myself lost in the vastness of a million stars. 

“Do you think there’s a place out there somewhere that isn’t controlled by the Capital?” Peeta asks. 

I turn to see his profile in the glow of the moonlight. He appears more comfortable than in the forest but I know his leg is bothering him because he can’t stop itching it. 

“No place we can get to” I answer. 

“Sometimes it helps” he says. “Just knowing that it is there, even if I will never see it.”

I try to consider this. To think about a place outside of District Twelve. To conjure the value of a freedom of people I will never meet. To gain hope and strength from a beauty that is beyond my own life. The stars make it easier. They weave a pattern that makes me both insignificant and completely central to the universe. 

“What were you going to do before you were reaped?” Peeta asks, breaking me out of my trance. 

“I went hunting with Gale that morning” I answer distractedly.

“No” he says shaking his head. “I mean if you wouldn’t have been chosen, or volunteered I guess. What did you want to do after school when you got older?”

“Just spend more time hunting I guess” I answer, irritated. Only a merchant would pretend like vocation is a choice. “Trade in the Hob and with your father. If I couldn’t make enough that way, then work in the mines. If my Mom kept getting better, I could have helped her. It’s not like I had that many options.”

“At least now you can be outside more” he says hopefully. 

I roll my eyes. Yeah, like all the time since we are homeless. 

“You won’t have to work in the mines” he reminds me. 

I nod in agreement. For that, I am grateful. 

“Well, I guess I might not be marrying Delly anymore” he sighs. 

Delly! I scream internally, a mass of red fireworks going off inside of my head. His off handed comment has caught me completely by surprise. I suck in some air and apparently a passing insect and cough several times. I cannot get the scratchy feeling to dissipate and have to sit up to hack it out. Peeta is at my side instantly, rubbing my back and trying to take my hand. 

“Katniss” he asks with concern. “Are you alright?”

I shrug him off. 

“I’m fine” I grump. “I just want you to stop talking so we can get some sleep.”

He returns to the forest floor and curls up like a wounded puppy. 

I stare into a darkness no more foreboding than the emptiness that has gripped my core. All of these days of touching, talking, looking at my breasts. I know he has been flirting, I can’t have imagined it. And all the while he has been engaged to Delly Cartwright. I hate him for leading me to believe that I was someone special to him when he was planning to be with her the whole time. Even as I think it, I know it isn’t fair. I have been nothing but mean and sullen with him in every interaction we have had. 

I think of Delly. Her full figure and welcoming smiles. She is the happiest, friendliest person I have met in my entire life. Her parents own the store that makes and mends shoes. It is right next to the bakery. Peeta grew up with her. They have probably been in love since 5th grade. I saw them in school talking and laughing together all the time. 

I take some deep breaths. That’s…good. It makes sense. Peeta is a nice boy. Delly is good wife material. They are the same kind of people. They would likely make a strong match, have a happy marriage. That is normal, it is what is supposed to happen. It is the way I think it should happen. It is the marriage I have wanted to kick my mother for not choosing for herself ever since my father died. 

Then why do I feel like I want to throw up? That I want to scream at Peeta. That I want to slap him or knee him in the junk. That given the chance, I might do something nasty to stupid Delly Cartwright as well. 

I turn over in the grass and watch the rise and fall of my sleeping comrade. I knew he was asleep even before looking. I know the patterns of his breathing. Spending all this time together has been confusing. I miss hunting. I miss my sister, I even miss my mother. I miss Gale and the people in the Hob. I want my old life back. It seemed awful sometimes but at least I knew my place in it. I have no idea where things stand with Peeta. Apparently, I don’t even know where I want things to stand. 

I dream that night of blonde haired, blue eyed children playing in a cozy bakery while a starving seam girl watches from outside the storefront window in the driving snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation and dynamic at breakfast before they leave is interesting. Every time they start to bond or share something, she tries her hardest to ruin it. Even something as simple as laughing together. 
> 
> She makes a comparison between laughing with Gale and laughing with Peeta. Interested in your feedback on that. 
> 
> There is a sense of eerie isolation when they visit the crash site. They have been hiding out for a long time from people who may or may not have ever looked for them. It is a relief not to be on the run, but it also leaves them with little direction for the future. 
> 
> They are also introduced to the probability of rebels. Someone sabotaged train. They clearly wanted to cause trouble for the capital but they also weren't mindful of the lives of the tributes or the mentor aboard. This goes along with one of the stories main themes which is the shock of the new. Katniss's world has been flipped upside down several times since her reaping day, causing her to confront and question many of her assumptions and values. Peeta thinks much more abstractly and idealistically about life than she does and he is introducing her to novel thoughts and ideas as well. 
> 
> Katniss has a strong reaction to finding out that Peeta had intended to marry Delly if he had not been reaped. A very strong reaction for someone who doesn't care :) More to come on that in a later chapter and it will tie back into this conversation so it is an important one to keep in mind as we continue.


	6. Finding Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta face more challenges on their journey to the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who is following the story and leaving me feedback. It is so essential for a writer to have someone to dialogue with on a long story.
> 
> Happy Memorial Day to all those living in the USA and thank you to all of those who have served on our behalf. This is something to celebrate for anyone hoping for an update to this story as well. I would not have had time to post today if I would have needed to work. 
> 
> Katniss has just discovered that Peeta was engaged to Delly at the time of the Reaping. She was initially very jealous but Katniss seems to adjust to things as she needs to. We will see how she approaches this situation in this new chapter.

I wake the following morning, determined to set a new course in my relationship with Peeta. In the exhaustion of the evening before, I let myself lose sight of reality. I won’t let it happen again. I leave him sitting by the clearing and quickly find and gather some food. It isn’t much and it isn’t tasty, but it is enough to keep us from getting sick. He offers to help but I refuse. The preceding day has taken a toll on his body and his limp is more noticeable today. No sense in him wasting his energy when he won’t be much of a help to me anyway. 

When it is time to head out I reach out and give him a hand to help him up. He smiles at me and I give him one in return. We travel the morning in relative silence. I could almost imagine that I am at home with Gale if his footsteps weren’t so loud. With each passing step I repeat a soothing mantra over and over again. 

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 16 years old. I was reaped for the hunger games. So was Peeta. The train crashed, and we survived. Peeta is a merchant boy and he is also my friend. 

By the time the sun is high in the sky, I feel more relaxed then I have in months. The capital isn’t after us. We aren’t going to the games. We will face no more reaping days. Peeta is a nice guy and he is young and strong. He will be a help to me. He is also in love with another girl and is pledged to her. That makes things less complicated. We will be friends just like Gale and I. 

Occasionally, an image of my sister pops into my head and my anxiety spikes again but I firmly push the sensation and the thoughts away. We need to make it to the lake. That is the only thing we need to concentrate on. If we can make it to the lake, I will deal with everything else then. Right now, all I need to do is scavenge for food and keep putting one foot in front of the other until we are able to navigate our way back to the district. 

The war in my head continues to rage with positivity coming out on top more often than not until late afternoon. I am side stepping a small ravine when I see it out of the corner of my eye. One moment Peeta is walking beside me and the next he lurches forward until his face is in the dirt. I turn back to help him and my concern morphs into absolute terror as I take in the sight of a Peacekeeper. He must of been lying in wait. I imagine his hand clamped around Peeta’s ankle to bring him down. 

My scream of terror pierces the air and my foot makes contact with his helmet on instinct. I reach for Peeta and wrench him to his feet, using so much force that he nearly stumbles into me. The second he is upright, I take off in an all out run, hoping with all my might that he is able to follow. 

My eyes begin searching for a branch or stone, anything I can use as a weapon in the event that either of us is captured. When I stop to pick one up, it registers in my mind that Peeta isn’t following me. I freeze for a moment, as I hear his voice cutting through my alarm. I hear him calling my name and ignore my sense of self preservation and bolt back to where he is surely being help captive. 

When I get closer, I notice that his voice doesn’t sound that distressed. He is calling for me to come back, not to run away. I slow to a jog. I am out of breath and I know for sure that if there was truly danger, he would never encourage me to return. 

I find him sitting not far from where I left him, Peacekeeper still lying on the ground. Peeta must of overpowered him and knocked him out. His expression shows relief as I return. My mind is filled with questions, but I haven’t enough oxygen to voice them. 

Peeta motions to the man on the ground. 

“He’s dead” he informs me. “Has been for a while. I didn’t see him and I tripped.”

I stand there panting, not knowing what else to do. I don’t want to look at him. Don’t want to see a skeleton or a half-decomposed corpse. I just want to get as far away as we can. 

“Looks like he was alone” Peeta observes. “Like maybe he just laid down for the night and never woke back up. I would think if someone had been with him that they would have come back for the body. Coyotes probably wouldn’t have left much for us to find if it wasn’t for the body armor.”

He takes in my look of discomfort and my closed body language and gets to his feet. 

“I…I normally wouldn’t want anything to do with a dead guy but I think we should probably go through his things, see if there is something that we can use. Maybe he had some extra clothes with him.”

I nod, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of that myself. Peeta hands me the backpack before returning to the corpse to search his pockets. I fix my attention on the task of rummaging through his belongings and do my best not to acknowledge the horror of the situation. I make it through the bag but my brain won’t process it’s contents. 

Peeta comes and sits in front of me, an expression of concern on his face. 

“Katniss?” he asks, bringing his hands forward to steady mine. Even as he holds them they will not cease shaking. 

He pulls me up and walks me several yards forward before pulling me into a warm embrace. I settle my cheek against his chest and try to calm my shallow breathing. 

“It’s alright” he soothes, running his hands against my back. “You’re ok.” 

We stay that way for several minutes until I slowly begin to regain my bearings. He sits me down on a stump and promises to return in a few minutes. I know why I am so upset but I don’t want to acknowledge it. I hate dead bodies. I fight to maintain control of my breathing. If I can slow down the air coming through my lungs, I can head off and dampen my emotional response as well.

When Peeta joins me, he does so with both the backpack and a bedroll. He is also dressed in overly long pants and a shirt that is probably a couple of sizes too small. He slips a white men’s undershirt over my head as well, dressing me as though I were a child. It goes to my thighs. He seems cautiously optimistic with our new supplies. He is clearly pleased with having them, but he doesn’t like the way in which they have upset me. 

Several hours of walking helps the haze I am in to fade. When the sun begins to set Peeta rolls out the bedroll, intending for us to share. I sit next to him cross legged but refuse to lay down until I am truly ready for sleep. A long period of silence follows until the woods is teeming with the chirp of a thousand insects. 

“What do you think he was doing out here?” I finally ask. 

I can’t see Peeta in the darkness. The moon is just a sliver tonight and the canopy overhead is thick. I can imagine him though. His thick baker’s fingers running through his hair as he contemplates my question. 

“Judging by his supplies, I would say that he was running away” he tells me. 

“Running away?” I spit. “What would a Peacekeeper have to run away from? He might have been on a scouting expedition?”

“I doubt it” Peeta sighs. “They wouldn’t have sent someone off on their own and if he would have had a companion they would have come back for the body. I think he abandoned his post and then something happened to him. He could have gotten sick or dehydrated. Who knows.”

I shake my head. 

“What an idiot” I observe. 

“How do you know?” Peeta counters. “Maybe he didn’t want to be a Peacekeeper anymore.”

“Better to die in the woods because you don’t know what you are doing” I mutter. 

“Yeah, it might be” he insists. 

I turn to face him, even though all I can see is the blanket of night. 

“He had had everything” I remind Peeta. “Good food, money. Power and control over the district. He didn’t need to risk his life trying to get away from that. What more could he have wanted?”

I hear his breathing start to increase. We get like this sometimes. He is frustrated with me. 

“Would you want to be a Peacekeeper?” he whispers. 

I don’t give myself time to think about it. 

“Better than being Seam” I say. 

My answer hangs thick between us. He disapproves of my ends justify the means approach. I resent his opportunity to have a lofty attitude about it. When it becomes clear that he isn’t going to respond I feel a distinct need to clarify. 

“If the world could be what I wanted it to be…no. Of course, I wouldn’t want to be a Peacekeeper Peeta. But you haven’t lived through the worst of things. Haven’t watched people you knew grow thin until they don’t wake up in the morning. Haven’t seen your childhood friends accept scraps from Cray just to feed their families. All I know is, when it comes to who controls things, it is better to be on the side of those in power then to be on the receiving end of their force.”

He doesn’t try to argue this. 

“Look Katniss” he begins. “I’m not saying this guy was a hero. I just think we need to keep in mind that we don’t know his story. It’s possible he wasn’t even a real Peacekeeper. We know rebels blew up the train. He could have been one of them.”

The idea of partisans living freely in the woods outside of the districts is thrilling but it doesn’t add up in this case, even though I wish that it would. 

“I doubt he would still be dressed that way” I tell him. “Alone in the wilderness with no one around to wear a disguise for?” 

Peeta takes a moment to consider this and then lets out a long breath. 

“Ok” he relents. “Wishful thinking. But if he was a legit Peacekeeper, he obviously didn’t want to stay in Twelve.”

He grows quiet and contemplative for a long while. I would believe him to be asleep if I wasn’t so familiar with his breathing patterns. 

“You’ve seen the pictures of life in the Capital from the holo” Peeta says. It isn’t a question. “If that is what they are used to, it has to be a huge hardship for them to leave it and live in the districts.”

I hadn’t really considered this before. 

“Maybe he just wanted to go home” Peeta continues. “He could have been missing his family. He could have had a girl he wanted to return to. One that meant everything to him.”

I roll my eyes. Peeta is such a hopeless romantic. I furrow my brow, considering that this may be how he feels about Delly. 

“I wonder if they have a choice” he says softly. “Or if they reap them from some kind of a system of luck just like they do with us. Or if they are serving out some type of punishment.”

That would explain why most of them are criminals, I think to myself.

“I’m not sure they are all from the Capital” I say before I have completely thought it through. I surprise myself by sharing it with him. It is something that I have suspected for a long time but have never uttered to anyone. Not even to Gale. 

I hear him shift over to his side and face me. I am grateful for the cover of darkness. 

“It’s just Darius” I start. “He’s one of them but he isn’t as bad. He trades with us sometimes in the Hob. He showed me a picture of his family once and they all looked completely normal, no face or skin modifications or anything. That and most of them don’t have accents. Not like the capital people you see on the holo. Also…when Darius and I were talking one day he let it slip that he has never seen a hovercraft. They come in and out of the capital all the time. You can see them sometimes when you watch the tribute parades.”

“So you think they come from another district” Peeta concludes. 

“Probably from 1 or 2” I answer. “Somewhere that has a bigger stake in keeping the current system.” 

“You sound pretty close to Darius” Peeta comments, catching me off guard. 

“No…just a few trades on occasion. We aren’t friends or anything” I say defensively. 

“I’ve never heard of a Peacekeeper talking to any of us about where they come from or who they know” he explains. “None of them have ever said two words to me. He must be sweet on you.”

I am again thankful for the cover of night as my cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about” I insist. “Things aren’t like that with Darius. He just has real money so it is worth it to trade with him. He likes to tease me, tug on my braid when I’m eating soup at Sae’s stall and then act like it was someone else. He thinks of me like a sister.”

“I thought you two weren’t close” Peeta states “Family is pretty familiar, and I would be shocked if Darius has even once thought of you in a brotherly way.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice rising. “Because I am Seam?” 

I’m not sure what reaction I expect, but it isn’t for Peeta to laugh.

“Because you’re a beautiful woman” he says, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

I would argue but his use of the words beautiful and woman have momentarily stunned me into silence. He really thinks of me, not only as pretty but also as a grown woman? My heart is thumping so loudly that I am sure that he can hear it. 

“Think about it Katniss” he begins to explain. “Out of all the girls you have ever known, how many of them hunted animals in the woods and survived despite the fact that the world had obviously condemned them to death?”

I have no idea where he is going with this and my silence must give away my confusion. 

He lets out a loud huff of frustration. 

“He can see how desirable you are” he explains to me. “He is flirting with you. He wants you to think of him the same way, he wants to be with you.”

I am floored that he believes any of this and I completely disagree but given that Darius isn’t here there is no point in arguing about it. 

“Well” I begin, not quite sure what direction to steer the conversation. “I’ve never thought anything like that about Darius. I mean…he’s older than us and a Peacekeeper and that’s just…weird.”

When Peeta speaks again, the tone of his voice gives away his relief and I am pleased that he decides to let the matter rest. 

“If Peacekeepers do come from other districts that would have given this one another reason to take off. He might have been forced to come here in the first place. It would have been all the more difficult to force us to live in such horrible conditions.”

I’m not used to spending all this time focusing on the plights and perspective of others, particularly those I view as enemies and it is starting to make my head hurt. I trudge a few steps away from Peeta, happy to have some real clothing to sleep in for the first time in what seems like forever despite the fact that it doesn’t fit me. Peeta starts to say something several times but then stops. He must eventually decide that it isn’t worth the effort and I fall asleep staring through the darkness and wondering if Peeta was right and how it might have made Darius feel to watch my reaping. 

I open my eyes some hours later, comfortably tucked into the bedroll. I’m not sure if I am more annoyed that he was able to put me in it without my knowledge or that he has made another unwanted sacrifice on my behalf. He found it, he should use it. He needs sleep just as badly as I do. I don’t want him taking it easy on me just because I am a girl. I can’t stand the list of things that I owe him. It seems to grow longer every day. I could have handled another night without bedding. 

We set out early but don’t make the progress we did the day before. We have some gear to carry now and Peeta’s limp continues to worsen. He is hurting. Another reason why he should have been the one to use the bedroll. I slow my pace and he gives me a thankful smile. I try not to acknowledge how much it warms me.

We stop at midday for what should be lunch but find nothing to eat. We need to reach the lake and we need to do it soon. We can’t continue to cover miles of ground each day on a few handfuls of mushrooms and berries. My head hurts and I sit on a stump and fight the urge to cry. It won’t help us and it will only encourage Peeta to believe that I can’t handle things. He plops down beside me but doesn’t speak. I can see the tears in his eyes as well. We stare off into the woods for the longest time in silence. No words need to be shared. We both know we are running on empty. 

Eventually, I force myself to my feet and he follows. His tread is obnoxiously loud but it is also steady. Much like the man himself. Generally, more talkative and animated than the kind of company I am accustomed to, but solid and constant in a world that keeps being flipped upside down. Despite our differences, I am glad to have him with me. I am lost in these thoughts when my ear picks up a sound it would recognize anywhere. A very light hum. I take a few additional steps forward and then reach out my arm to stop Peeta. I motion along the length of the tree line. We have found the fence that surrounds Twelve and it is most definitely turned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss is much more comfortable in her purely friendship-based relationship with Peeta. This is more familiar territory for her. It is also helping them build a more solid foundation for what is proving to be a long-term relationship. 
> 
> Peeta and Katniss have different reactions to and viewpoints on finding the Peacekeeper and speculating on his motivations. Interested on in your thoughts on this. 
> 
> They also have a very interesting conversation about Darius. I am with Peeta on this one.


	7. At the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta finally reach the lake after many days at the cave and of traveling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who is following the story and leaving me comments. I have been super busy, but I wanted to give you an update on this work and not make you wait too long. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts and feelings on this one if you have a few minutes.

Finding the edge of the district does not immediately translate into being oriented to our location. We follow the tree line until I begin to grow concerned that we may not even be outside of Twelve. I never head towards the tracks once I’m in the woods for fear of being seen. Nothing looks familiar until I find a tree that Gale carved nondescript markings on to map out his trapping route. I look for them ever 50 yards or so until I a better idea of our location. 

“Did you mark these to help you find our way back?” Peeta asks. 

I shake my head.

“No” I tell him. “These are Gale’s.”

He gives the woods a sweeping glance. 

“Is there a chance that he might run into him?” he asks. 

“Doubtful” I shrug. “I’m not sure how long we have been gone but he was supposed to start in the mines right after his last reaping day. He won’t be out here much anymore.”

I haven’t had time to think through who or when or even if we should make contact with anyone from Twelve. We certainly haven’t discussed it. As a matter of fact, I have been avoiding going over the options even in my own mind. It is too big of a bite to chew. All we need to concentrate on is making it to the cabin. That will keep us alive. 

We head deeper into the forest and after a time it becomes clear that we won’t reach the lake by nightfall. Peeta offers me the bedroll but I refuse. 

“Fine” he agrees. “I’ll just move you once you fall asleep.”

I glare at him. I’m not normally such a sound sleeper but the traveling and lack of food are teaming up to take a heavy toll.

“I think we should try to sleep in shifts tonight” he says. 

“Why?” I question. “We haven’t been under cover since we left the cave.”

He nods. “I know, but we didn’t know how long the journey would take. Now we know we will be able to rest better tomorrow night. We’ve been running the risk of someone accidently stumbling on to us, but now we know for sure that we are close to a district. I’ll take first watch.”

I scowl at him and grab the bedroll. If he wants to play commandos, I’m game. I am less enthusiastic when he gently shakes me awake several hours later. My head is aching and my belly throbs with hunger. I try to concentrate on the cabin as I prop myself up against a tree. I watch Peeta nearly pass out as soon as his head hits the blanket. We are both completely worn out. The cabin, I think again. We will have food and shelter if we can just get there. 

I had a lot of long nights like this growing up. When the hollow feeling in my gut felt vaster than the inky night. I would watch my sister sleep and know that it was all worth it to be there for her. To watch her grow up. I would promise myself that she would have a better life than me. Now I am unsure if I will ever see her again. 

My eyes find a few stars twinkling through the trees. I can’t think of Prim, not tonight. Not when there is nothing I can do but miss her. Not when I need internal fuel to finish a long journey. I must concentrate on the task at hand. We will be on the move again at first light. I picture the lake in my mind’s eye. The peace and comfort that it will bring. I always wanted to live there. Now I finally have my chance, just not in any way I would have ever imagined it. 

My gaze falls back to Peeta. He is snoring softly and I move closer to him. It seems strange that someone who seemed so foreign to me just a short time ago, is now the only thing familiar. My district partner. The one I was destined to kill or be killed by, may be the only person that I am able to keep. 

On impulse, I reach out and smooth his hair back from his face. I haven’t touched him this way since he was sick, but I find myself drawn to care for him whenever he is vulnerable. He leans into my touch even in the depths of sleep. I’ve been keeping my distance from him ever since he threw me the bread. I’ve hoped that he would give me reason to dismiss him. For my own protection. But everything that has happened since the crash only reinforces his honesty and goodness. My heart clenches. Now I need to keep him safe. For both our sakes. 

We are still exhausted in the morning. Days without much food and a night of only a few hours sleep keeps our feet slow and our minds fuzzy. We don’t talk much. My brain has but a singular focus. Putting one foot in front of the other. I offer Peeta to stop if he wants to rest but he shakes his head. 

“If I sit down” he tells me “I feel like I might not get back up.”

It isn’t his words that worry me. It is the lackadaisical nature of his tone. I need to get some food in him or he is going to collapse, and I am not far behind. I try to channel some inner strength from the knowledge that the lake is close. In the matter of an hour we will have arrived. 

When we finally reach the clearing, I nearly faint with relief. Some part of me thought that it might not be here. That God was set against us and might have dried it up or had the Capital discover and burn the cabin. It isn’t a very large home, just one room, but it is solid and real and it is standing less than 100 yards away. 

I turn to look at Peeta and see that he is smiling. His eyes travel over the landscape and then back to me. 

“It’s beautiful” he says. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“My father used to bring me here” I admit as we walk along at an increased pace. “No one else knows about it. We should be able to hold up here. I have some supplies.” 

His hand finds mine and I take it. A celebration of life. We are going to make it. 

A heavy weight falls off my shoulders when I find my things undisturbed. I break out into a huge grin and hold my extra set of clothes out to show Peeta. His eyes take in my current state of undress one more time and my breath catches. I am suddenly aware of the shirt that just covers my bottom and the fact that he has seen me in much less over the last few weeks. We have grown used to seeing each other this way, but somehow in the civilized atmosphere of the cabin it seems more scandalous, more…sexual. 

He clears his throat and walks out to let me change. I feel a million times better when I am fully covered again. More confident, more like the old Katniss. The stash I keep at the cabin isn’t lavish but it is exactly what we need: my extra bow, a piece of flint, a hatchet, my fishing pole, and a set of clothing. 

I show Peeta how to harvest katniss roots and when the insects start buzzing I make use of the fishing pole. Once I have a fire going, he helps me boil the roots and roast the fish on sticks. Our spirits are much higher with full bellies sitting and watching the flickering flames. We haven’t had a fire since the Reaping. 

His gaze keeps settling on me but any time I glance over at him, his eyes shift back to the circle of flame. I feel my cheeks start to warm and then remember that he is with Delly. We are just friends. No need to feel embarrassed or whatever that warm feeling was. My breathing evens out and my muscles relax. I hear a loud croak and Peeta jumps about a foot into the air. I laugh a little.

“It’s ok” I tell him. “It’s just a frog.”

He nods and settles back in to stirring the coals with a stick. My mind travels to a sunny day many years ago when my father helped me catch one of those big bullfrogs so that I could get a good look at one. We fell into the shallows more times than I could count. He let me hold it until we had to leave. I was completely fascinated by the slimy thing. I recall the time that he taught me how to use the flint. When he gifted me with the hatchet that I still use today. The adventure that led to us discovering the axe that is sitting dormant by the backdoor. I’m still too small to swing it properly. All of the memories that make up who I am. The ones that have started to fade and darken over time. 

“I remember him” Peeta says, as if he can read my thoughts. 

“Your father” he continues. “He used to come into the bakery all the time when I was a kid. He would trade with my Dad and stand at the counter and talk. He was always singing when he came up the walk. He had an amazing voice…just like you.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He is absolutely right about my father. But I don’t recall ever singing in front of Peeta Mellark and I haven’t done so much as hum a single note for anyone but Prim since I was a girl. 

“How would you know?” I ask suspiciously.

He studies the campfire again and rubs his thumb against the end of the stick he is holding. 

“The first day of school” he says. “You were wearing a red dress and your hair was in two braids instead of one. They asked if anyone knew the Valley Song and your hand went straight up. When I heard you sing I knew that you were really special and that I would remember it forever.”

“You have an incredible memory” I tell him a bit startled. 

He looks like he might say more but then doesn’t.

My eyes take in the little cabin and our comfy fire circle. The vast blanket of night covering the calm waters of the lake. Maybe it is this place, that seems to always bring him to life, but I have an irresistible urge to talk about my father. Something I haven’t done at length since he was taken from us. 

“When my father touched my mother’s face…it always left a smudge of coal dust. Even after he washed his hands, it was always there. She would smile and put her hand over it. After he died, I kept hoping that I would come home from school or back from a hunt and see a hint of black shadow on her cheek again. But I never did. It was gone and so was he.”

To some, those words might seem like a small admission, but they are the most I have shared with anyone ever. I meet Peeta’s eyes across the fire. They are serious and full of sorrow. Like he knows the weight of what was spoken and accepts it. 

“That day, when I tossed you the bread” he says. He pauses then and looks to me for recognition. As if I could have ever forgotten. As if it were not the moment that had most defined my life. The fulcrum on which my destiny seems to turn. I nod and he lowers his gaze once again.

“My mother hit me that night. Gave me a black eye. It wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t the last either. She would still be doing it if I hadn’t been reaped.”

My heart goes out to him but I don’t let him see how his description has affected me. Not when I know he isn’t fishing for sympathy. I can hear the shame and embarrassment in his voice. I know that his mother was horrible, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. I had always thought of the Merchant world as being devoid of serious trouble or hardship. Yet here was Peeta, abused at home and reaped for destruction by the capital that Gale and I thought had favored him. 

When my father died, I lost my happy family. Peeta never really had one. I can’t decide which is worse. I just know that both are awful. Peeta was such a nice boy in school. I never saw him yell or be cross with anyone. How could his mother hurt him so much? I think it a very good thing for Mrs. Mellark that I am stuck in the woods. 

I want to ask more about Peeta’s family but decide that it is best not to pry. I don’t want him to ask about mine. I want to share things as I am ready. Instead, I ask the question that has been gnawing at me for the last 5 years. 

“Peeta?” 

His eyes find mine again. Filled with fear that I am going to criticize or judge. 

“That day that you gave me the bread. How did it get burned?” I manage. 

“It fell in the fire” he answers. 

“That’s not what I’m asking” I tell him. 

“Yes” he admits, letting out a breath. “I burned it on purpose.”

I know, I’ve known since that day. Since he looked right under that apple tree. He already knew that I was there. He found a way to feed me even though it cost him a beating. I’ve worked very hard trying not to know it and now it cannot be denied.

“Why?” I ask, my voice sounding strained. 

“Because I couldn’t watch you die Katniss” he says. 

I am taken back to those hours in the cave. The days in which he was fading, and I understand his plight. I would have taken a dozen beatings to save him. I can’t rationalize it, but I know it to be true. We sit in silence for a long time, awash in new revelations. When the coals turn to embers we trudge into the cabin. He offers me the bedroll and I continue to refuse. 

“You found it” I insist. “You found it and it’s yours.”

“We will trade off and on” he insists. 

“You don’t have to share with me” I tell him.

“You’re sharing everything you have with me” he says, motioning about. 

I’m about to make a completely ridiculous counter argument when he rips his shirt over his head and puts it over mine. I’m stunned and stammer a bit as I take in his naked torso, less than an arm length away. When he reaches for his pants I find my voice again. 

“What are you doing?” I ask with an urgency that makes him laugh. 

“I’m taking my clothes off” he smiles. “Look, it’s going to be colder tonight and we have established that I have the bedroll. You can use these extra clothes for warmth and to make the floor softer.”

I continue to gape at him as if he has lost his mind. When he is stripped down to his underwear he tosses his pants to me. 

“If you don’t want me naked then you should agree to take the bedroll next time” he advises. 

I shake my head but pull the extra clothing on obediently. 

“Just remember” he says, settling in. “If I offer it to you again and you refuse, it definitely means that you just want another look at this hot body.” 

I know he is teasing but my face burns with embarrassment anyway. I am too flustered to think of a crushing reply. For some reason I have to fight moisture that is suddenly filling my eyes. 

“Why is it so important to you that I keep warm?” I ask. My question sounds more like an accusation. 

He comes closer and grabs my shoulders, like he wants to shake some sense into me. His posture is aggressive, but when he sees the uncertainty in my eyes he seems to remember himself and relaxes. 

“BECAUSE WE ARE FRIENDS KATNISS” he says very loudly and slowly. I am reminded of the way that Sae sometimes has to explain things to her granddaughter. The one who lives in her own little world. 

“If Gale were here, don’t you think you would share what you have?” he questions. I can tell by his posture that he thinks that he already knows the answer. 

“Not our clothes” I exclaim. 

“Why not?” he answers. 

“Because that is…personal” I try to explain. 

“So he is your best friend, but you don’t share things that are personal?” he questions.

“If Gale were here, he would understand” I tell him. “He would know that I can handle it.”

“So do I” he says, raising his voice. “I know you can make it through a cold night Katniss. You can survive anything. I just don’t want you to have to. If there is something I can do to make your life better, I’m going to do it. That’s what we do now. We take care of each other.”

I think through the days since the train crash. Everything that has transpired. The many challenges we have faced together and realize that he is right. We are most definitely in this thing together. I wish I could think of something to say but I’m not good at saying something. He has to accept my simple nod in reply. It must be sufficient because I am rewarded with another grin as he dives into his blankets for the night. 

The cabin floor is no more comfortable than the forest and it seems strange to be sleeping indoors after so many nights in the wild. Sleep is elusive despite my exhaustion and as the minutes tick by I become acutely aware of Peeta’s scent. I rest my head on my arm and breathe it in. It reminds me of the bakery and of home. It makes me feel something that I haven’t since the explosion in the mine…peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter leaves us in a very different place than where we start. Up until this point, Katniss and Peeta have largely been reacting to one challenge after another stemming from the original reaping and train crash. It has all been about surviving day to day. Now that they have reached the lake, the dynamics will have to shift. Once they get established, they will need to face broader questions about what their life will look like moving forward.
> 
> The question of whether or not to return to district twelve comes up in Katniss's mind early in the chapter and she swats it away. She isn't ready to take that on yet. It makes you wonder how they are going to deal with that issue in the long term. 
> 
> What are your thoughts on them returning to or having contact with people from district twelve?
> 
> There is some serious conversation on this first night around the fire. Katniss speaking of her father, Peeta about his abuse, Katniss asking about the bread. Pretty heavy and a lot of progress for them in creating deeper intimacy. Would love feedback on this scene and what was shared. 
> 
> There has been disagreement over Katniss using the bedroll Peeta found ever since they encountered the Peacekeeper. I love how Peeta has handled it thus far. I loved when he picked her up and put her in it in the middle of the night and I got a good laugh out of how he handles her with it in this chapter too.


	8. An Axe to Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta struggle to divide responsibilities as they find a more permanent place together and Katniss wrestles with grieving the loss of her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been a while since I posted an update, I have had very little time to write. I stayed up half the night last yesterday to give you this one. Enjoy and leave me your thoughts and comments if you can.

Our main priority once reaching the cabin is to build up our food supply. At least that is my focus. Peeta keeps getting distracted by cleaning, fire tending, and wood collection. I can’t imagine why it is so important to remove all the leaf build up or gather kindling when we don’t even have meat to cook over the fire yet. It would be so much easier if it had been Gale I was reaped with. His survivalist skills and instinct would serve much better in this situation. I get annoyed with him, but I try not to let it show. Peeta has proved himself to be a good friend and reliable companion thus far and I can’t stack his lack of practical experience too harshly against him. 

For the first several days, we eat mostly fish and katniss roots as that is the easiest food source at hand. Once I build my strength up, I go hunting as well. I try to take Peeta with me a couple of times, but he really isn’t doing anything particularly helpful and his heavy tread scares off the game. I decide it would be best if he stays at the cabin. He spends most of his time trying to adjust his cooking skills to the open fire and making some minor improvements to our new homestead. 

One day, when I return from a long and frustratingly unproductive hunt, I find him sitting on the steps of the cabin winding some string around a branch to secure willow switches that he has woven together at the base. His eyes light up when he sees me and he holds up his newly constructed treasure in triumph. 

“Look Katniss” he says with enthusiasm. “I made a broom.”

I roll my eyes. “Why?” I ask in a tone that lets him know that I am not impressed. Why did I have to be stuck out here with a Merchant?

I don’t mean to be cruel to him, but I need his help with more pressing things and all he seems to want to do is play house.

“So we can clean the cabin better” he says, looking away. 

“The cabin is fine” I huff as I throw my bow on the ground and walk over to stir the fire. 

“I can do that” he says, coming over to help me. 

Our hands and shoulders bump as we both tend the blaze. After a few minutes, I give up and storm back to inside. I throw around the bedroll around for a while and then plunk down on the cabin steps to pout. I wish Gale were here. Gale would be hunting or fishing. He wouldn’t be standing by the fire and looking at me like I kicked his puppy. How the hell are we going to make it out here for more than a few weeks?

Tears start to form and I push them back. I won’t cry. I’m my father’s daughter and I won’t disappoint him that way. I look to the horizon and I know what is weighing so heavily on me. I don’t miss Gale. I need my father. This place is thick with him and he would know what to do. If he were here, then I wouldn’t be alone. 

We eat a meager dinner in near silence. I’m ashamed of myself for snapping at Peeta and he is trying not to agitate me further. We make eye contact several times but neither of us can think of what to say. Sorry you are stuck here with me? Just think, if the train hadn’t derailed, maybe we could be killing each other right now? The tension is wearing on me and I mutter an excuse and go to the woods for a walk. 

It does me good. Spending some time just taking in my forest, not worrying about tracking any prey. When I make it back to the clearing, I circle the lake twice. My mind keeps drifting back to Peeta. The baker boy waiting back at the cabin. The one so out of place in this wilderness and yet it is difficult to imagine this life without him. 

I need to make peace with this place, with the loss of my father, with myself. It is just such an insurmountable task. At least I feel like I’ve made a small amount of progress tonight. I am just finishing up my self-congratulations when I register the sound of my hatchet colliding with a piece of timber. I smile. Peeta is making himself useful in yet another way. I did what I needed to feed our cook stove back in the Seam, but chopping wood is not mt strength. My slender arms were not built for it. 

My good humor fades as he comes into view. I see his silhouette in the last rays of sunlight. His arms hefting an object much too heavy and too high in the air. The sound too productive. He isn’t using the hatchet. He is swinging my father’s axe. My chest feels like it’s on fire. I’m not sure if I’m angry because someone is wielding it again, or if I’m pissed that it couldn’t be me. 

“What are you doing?” I practically scream at him. 

He shoulders it for a moment before bringing it down again. Hard. I flinch. It isn’t even that difficult for him to handle. I feel salt in my open wound. 

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?” I repeat, grabbing his arm. He shrugs me off. 

“Cutting firewood” he says. His words are simple, but I can tell by his expression that he has had it with me. For the first time, his well of patience has run dry. 

“That” I say motioning to the tool still within his grasp. “Is my father’s axe.”

“You have got to be kidding me” he says in disbelief. “Katniss, what the hell do you want from me?” 

His voice is laced with desperation and yearning and for the life of me, I have no answer to his question. 

“It’s my father’s” I repeat. My mind, unable to form any other words. 

He sets it down and rests his hands on my shoulders. 

“Katniss, your father’s been dead for half a decade and we need firewood. It’s not like I can go around to the corner store and buy another one.”

He’s right and well within his bounds to speak so bluntly to me. We are in a tight situation and I have been nothing but critical of the contributions he has made. Still, I can’t stomach watching him take over a space he has no right to be in. I grab the axe and set it back in its rightful place before running into the cabin and slamming the door. I don’t want him to see the tears that have started to fall. I hear him muttering and kicking stones around outside as I selfishly shed my outer clothes and claim the bedroll. He will get no argument from me on using it tonight. 

The sirens slice through my head like a knife, cutting my happy life to ribbons. I know what it means to hear them during the middle of the day. Everyone does. I run to the mines with the rest of the Seam children. I don’t feel the pain in my lungs or legs, only in my heart. I know what I will find when I get there. He has escaped before, but this time is different. I know it deep inside. 

He’s gone long before I arrive. Blown so far into oblivion that there aren’t even ashes to spread or bury. Erased as if he never was. Except that all of us are left behind. He took my heart with him and my mother’s mind. Everything is gone. Our family income, all sense of normalcy, my childhood. I scream at my mother as she stares blankly at the wall. If she is this weak, why did she ever leave the safety of her Merchant life? Why can’t she wake up without him? I scream and scream and scream. 

“Katniss” I hear, as if from a distance. Perhaps my mother is finally responding to me. I hear my name again and know that it cannot be her. The voice is distinctively male. I feel strong arms lifting me from my bed and holding me close. I cling to them for dear life. 

My circumstances come to me before I open my eyes. His smell alerts me to his identity even though I cannot make out his face in the darkness. I hear rain pelting the roof. Bread. The smell of bread in the rain. He has come for me again. A voice inside my head tells me to resist the urge to take comfort from him, but I can no longer hold out. It isn’t a choice. I cannot hold back the flood gates any longer. 

“My father” I sob. “I need my father.”

“That’s right” he soothes, holding my head against his chest.

I sniff and try to hold it inside, but he rubs my back and urges me to continue. 

“It’s ok Katniss” he says softly. “Tell me what’s hurting you so. You can cry. I don’t need you to stop. I don’t need you to be strong for me. I don’t think less of you. Your pain is real and you have to let it out.”

I bury my face into his shoulder and scream. I pound my fists against his chest for every time I watched Prim go to bed hungry and tried to decide if I should stop feeding my mother. For ever night I considered going to Cray. For the times I nearly choked on the fear that the Capital would discover my hunting and turn the fence on full time. 

When I no longer have the strength to move, I slump against him. He continues to rub my back until I am quiet, and my breathing has turned to normal. I feel his lips against the top of my head and then he begins to slowly draw away. I try to reach for him, but he hands me the edge of the bedroll and begins to tuck it around me. 

I need him. The boy who took a beating for me. The one who hurt his leg and walks with a limp because he pulled me from a burning train. The one strong enough to swing my father’s axe. 

“Peeta” I call out to him. Just using my voice springs a leak in my emotional dam and I begin to sniffle. He sits down beside me. 

“I’m sorry Kat” he laments. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have touched your family’s things and I never should have spoken to you so harshly about your father’s passing. I don’t have any idea what you are going through and it was way out of line.” 

My bottom lip trembles. 

“Peeta?” I repeat and he leans over closer to me. I pull open the bedroll to make room for him. 

“Will you stay with me?” I plead. 

His warm presence is back against me in a moment and he opens his arms to me. I snuggle close so that his heartbeat can ward off any other demons looking to surface.

He is quiet the next morning. Neither of us mentions my breakdown. We try to start a conversation multiple times, but it keeps dying off. We can’t ignore the elephant in the room. I need to say something. The ball is clearly in my court. 

“It wasn’t your fault” I blurt out, as he stirs a boiling pot.

He looks over at me in surprise. 

“The nightmare” I clarify. “I’ve been having them for years. Ever since my father died. I’m surprised this is the first one you’ve seen, but we have been so tired most nights.”

I let silence settle between us. 

“It won’t be the last one” I tell him. “But what you did…it helped.” 

He smiles at me and my stomach turns in the same way it did that day I spied him bathing in the river. I try to remember that he is engaged to Delly but warmth keeps returning to my body when I think of the way he held me in the dark of night. It makes for a long day of chores and fishing. 

The lake proves a better source of meat than the forest does in the coming weeks and we slowly start to put more and more full belly days behind us. I am reminded how much brighter the landscape of existence appears when your body isn’t straining each day without proper rest and sustenance. 

I sit on the logs we drug over to use as seats and watch Peeta tackle the daily chore of harvesting katniss roots. He knows how to prepare them properly too. My mind drifts back to the first few days we were here. I showed him once how to find, remove and boil them and he has taken over ever since. I look back at the broom he put together, much like the one he likely has back at his family’s bakery. I continue to watch him throughout the day with rapt fascination. My eyes find his hands as he tends the fire and serves our meal. They are sure in their movements and he dispatches his chores efficiently. He is surely capable of much more. That is when it dawns on me that Peeta has been concentrating, not on what he thinks is the most important things we need to accomplish, but what he knows how to do. 

Most everything outside of the cabin and the food preparation are foreign to him and I have been a lousy teacher. I start to think over all the things that I should show him. There are many ways to secure our continual survival besides hunting and Peeta would likely be good at most of them. It would be amazing to have some more help, a real partner to work with me and get through this. He has been here the whole time trying to be that and I have been underestimating him.

We start the next morning. He proves to be a lost cause at hunting, so we scratch that rather quickly. He has a keen eye for mushrooms though and soon they are a daily addition to our diet. I take him deeper and deeper into the woods and show him every plant I can identify and what it is useful for. It isn’t long before I am able to relax after a good hunt, because he has done the gathering while I was away. 

Fishing takes a little longer, but by the time the nights begin to grow colder, it is something that we can do quite effectively as a team. We put our heads together and execute everything each of us can remember on food preservation. Peeta builds us a reasonable storehouse using only the hatchet. He hasn’t lifted the axe since the day I reacted so badly to it. 

I watch him work on it, his shirt discarded on the grass. His shoulders have broadened since the reaping and he is getting more hair on his chest. His arms are also thicker, the muscles more defined. I fight the stirrings in my belly and between my legs once again. 

Peeta never spends the day exactly as Gale or I would, but as time passes, I find that I enjoy the effort that he puts into cooking. It is nice to have daily fruits and vegetables along with meat. I find myself humming as I use the broom to sweep out the cabin. Daily sweeping helps keep pests away and it makes it smell better too. 

It will be getting cold soon and neither of us are looking forward to winter. We aren’t in horrible shape, but what we have stashed away will never last if I can’t hunt through the season as well. I’ve been hoping for some large game, but no such luck thus far. I hear the steady sound of the hatchet as Peeta works on the never-ending project of cutting enough firewood. It is a big job year-round, but now that he is chopping for tomorrow’s needs as well as today’s it is brutal. I keep offering to help, but he has assured me that he wants this to be his contribution. 

I watch the way he splits the logs and then stacks them. I try to recall if I can ever remember my father creating a pile so large. I try to picture his technique, his movements, his mannerisms, but when I do, I find that I am picturing Gale. I always thought that he was a lot like my father. Maybe because they are both Seam. But the truth is, I don’t know if Gale moves like him, because I can’t say that I remember what he looked like cutting wood anymore. I know that I watched him do it at our house hundreds of times. But as the years have marched on, images of those little things have begun to fade. 

I watch the sun continue to sink in the sky. Another day has passed. The cool air reminds me how the season is changing. I bite my lip. My father will always be a part of me, but memories are meant to grow dimmer with time. I can’t conjure ever detail of him, because he no longer consumes so much of me. 

I look over at Peeta and his effort to help prepare us for winter. The labor of today is difficult, and he is rising to the occasion. I run over and grab something that will help along the way. He is shocked when I offer him the handle. 

“Are you sure you want me to use your father’s axe?” he questions. 

“It’s yours now” I answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss is really working through some major things in this chapter. There is a lot of symbolism and some significant changes in the dynamics of her relationship to Peeta. 
> 
> I would love your thoughts and feedback on:
> 
> Her reflections on Gale and comparing him to her father.
> 
> The axe and everything that it represents. 
> 
> Her realization that Peeta is a much more capable and suitable partner for her than she had ever envisioned. 
> 
> The nightmare and Katniss's struggle to process the tragic loss of her father, it's aftermath, and continuing to let him go.


	9. A Swim in the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Peeta share some time together at the lake before cold weather sets in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since my last update. We were on vacation for a while and I took a new role at work. Things have just been really busy in my real life. It is hard to find time to write these days but I will keep plugging along. I promise never to leave a work unfinished.

The more days that go by, the easier it is to forget the life we had before the reaping. We fall into a routine, working side by side until our food supply is plentiful. We store everything that can be put away in preparation for winter and gorge ourselves on that which cannot be preserved. For the first time in my life, I experience the sensation of a full belly on a regular basis. Peeta is uneasy about the prospect of snow but I am more optimistic. Gathering will cease to be a reliable source of sustenance but I am hopeful that hunting will continue to provide a steady stream of foodstuffs. 

Despite our comfortable conditions, the changing of the leaves forces me to confront the passage of time, as well as the inevitability of seriously comp templating the future. As I hang another plant for drying, I can no longer fight off a flood of memories of my sister. Primrose. I’ve been pretending that she is gone. Lost to me forever. But she isn’t. She’s likely attending another day of school not two days journey away. 

Once I allow myself to think of her again, I must acknowledge that she could be unwell. Anything could have happened. She may need me and there could be more that I can do to help her. My mind is focused on the various ways I might be able to gain contact with District Twelve when Peeta comes to join me. We share a companionable silence. It’s a small space and we occasionally brush against each other. His hands find my waist when he is behind me, making me aware of his presence on more levels than is likely his intention. I stand in his way sometimes, just so that he will touch me this way. 

Delly, I remind myself. He may be playing house with me out of necessity, but he belongs with another girl. Peeta and I haven’t chosen a romance. We are stuck out in the wilderness as a result of a botched delivery to the capital. He is an all-around nice guy who is making the best of a bad situation. He doesn’t want me. He just needs a friend and partner. 

“I need to go back to Twelve” I tell him. 

He stills. He has tried to bring this subject up with me dozens of times and I have always refused to discuss it. His steady gaze takes in my readiness to explore the conversation. 

“I don’t think you can” he says gently. 

“I know that I can’t stay” I acknowledge. “But I need to check on my sister. I need to make sure that she is ok.”

“Gale is looking out for her” he assures. 

“I trust him to do all that he can by her” I agree. “But he has his own family to feed and I don’t know for sure how he is. He has less time to hunt now. He could have even been hurt working in the mines.” 

“If we are just looking after an update on how she is than I can go” Peeta suggests. 

I snicker. “Oh yeah, most popular merchant guy in school who died in tragic accident shows up asking after a poor Seam girl. That isn’t likely to cause any suspicion. The whole district would be talking about it by nightfall.” 

He smiles. “Well, Ms. Everdeen. That wasn’t exactly the way I was going to go about it. I planned on being sneakier.”

“Peeta” I groan. “There is no way you could ever fly under the radar, you’re so…” I pause and scan through all the adjectives that apply. There is nothing that I can say that won’t allude to the building attraction that I feel for him. “You will stick out” I settle on. “Seam folks will spot those baby blues and golden locks from a mile away.”

His boyish grin returns, and his hand finds my shoulder. 

“Golden?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at my favorable description. My heart skips a beat. 

“I know what you look like Mellark” I say, moving his arm out of the way and returning to the fire ring to start dinner. Our conversation lingers into the evening. 

“I can’t stand it” I say in agitation. “Being this close to her and not seeing her.” 

“Katniss” Peeta says quietly. 

I know that I’m not going to like what he has to say. 

“I’d do anything to give you your sister. But we are dead now. We aren’t a danger to either of our families. We are tributes and tributes either die or become victors. If someone saw you, if you spoke to Prim and she started acting different.” 

“I know they will kill us if they ever catch us” I agree. 

“Worse than that” he says gravely. “They would consider it a screw up, an embarrassment. They might take it out on our family, friends, maybe even the whole district to make an example.” 

I make a few more weak arguments, but I know that he is right. Contacting anyone from the past is likely more risk than reward to anyone. It is too much to except though, living on but never seeing my sister again. Dying to save her in the games was one thing. Enjoying a new-found freedom and companionship while her future is unknown is something else. I can’t let it settle.

“I hope that they just let it be us” Peeta says, bringing me out of my private torture session. 

“Huh?” I ask in confusion. 

“I hope that they still counted us as the District Twelve tributes and didn’t redraw to have someone else for the arena.”

My heart nearly stops. The possibility had never occurred to me before. The guilt sinks in almost immediately. We ran. The train came off the tracks and we took off, potentially sending another young pair to their deaths. Not just faceless strangers, but likely kids they both know and grew up with. 

“Prim” I whisper in horror. 

Peeta’s hand finds mine. “No” he insists. “They already drew that slip and I know that you only let her put it in there once. No telling how many times you let them enter yours. They couldn’t have drawn her again.”

My heart rate slows as his logic penetrates my brain, but I still have a lingering feeling of apprehension, never trusting the capital to follow even their own rules. 

My thoughts go to Gale and his pile of Tesserae slips. Then I remember the traps we found in the woods on our way here. He is likely secure as well.

“There’s no way to know for sure” Peata says, as if reading my thoughts. “Just more uncertainty we will have to live with.” 

I like the way that he says we. As if the burden is bearable if shared. Silence stretches on between us, broken only by the sound of chirping insects. 

“We could try to talk to him” Peeta suggests. “Gale…find him when he is out hunting. You know where his traps are, we could wait for him. He could give us the answers we are looking for.” 

For one wonderful moment, I allow myself to believe that it is possible. 

“No” I tell him in disappointment. 

“It’s our best option” he insists. “Gale would never betray you to the capital.”

“True” I agree. “But you don’t know him like I do. If he knew we were out here. That this lake and cabin exist and that there are free people living on it. He would try to bring his family here too. If people start disappearing they will ask questions. They will come and find us. Gale is determined to change things. He won’t let it go. He is always making plans to run away as soon as his brothers and sisters are older.”

“He could bring Prim to us” Peeta suggests. “He could sneak her out and she could stay in the cabin too.”

I shake my head. “We may be free Peeta, but we aren’t safe. At least in the district my mother can buy ingredients, make medicine. You and I are tough, she’s more fragile. She wouldn’t make it in the woods.”

I don’t miss his look of pleasure on me including him in the tough crowd. A feeling of power swells within me at my ability to have such an effect on him. 

“Besides, there is just the two of us here. She needs to go to school, to train with my mother. She wants to be a healer. There isn’t anyone for her to play with or marry. There is nothing for her here.”

His hand tightens on mine. 

“Is there something here for you Katniss?” He asks. 

His eyes are so blue and his smell so masculine. I feel that throbbing in my core that I’ve been doing my best to suppress. Delly, I remind myself. He belongs in another world. But we can’t go back to that life, I argue inside my head. I bite my lower lip and notice that his eyes follow the motion. 

“Of course,” I say, my voice faltering. I give his hand a slight shake. “My best friend is here.” 

Something flickers in his eyes and I secretly hope that it is a hint of disappointment, but a moment later he grins at me again. 

A few days later we get an unseasonably warm day. I try not to notice the way Peeta’s shirt clings to his chest as he labors at splitting firewood. It is difficult to image that it will be snowing soon as another trickle of sweat runs down my back. I wipe my brow and wish for anything but another day of chores. I hear a loud call from the lake and turn to see a large bird of prey swoop down to grab its lunch. The ripples it creates on the water are beyond inviting. 

“Hey” I call to Peeta, tossing my hatchet aside. He glances over at me with a questioning look. “I think this might be the last hot one we have this year” I tell him. “You said you wanted me to teach you to swim. No time like the present.”

His eyes follow me as I head down to the water, but he doesn’t move. Most likely dumbstruck by my sudden desire to have a little fun. I can’t help it. The sun is catching the reds and oranges of the falling leaves. It is the most beautiful sight imaginable and life is teaming in my veins. It’s the kind of day when you feel like anything is possible. Like you own the world. I’ve never controlled my own destiny before and I am drunk with the power of it. 

By the time Peeta catches up with me, I’ve already removed my boots. I pretend not to notice his presence as I pull my shirt over my head, but its literally the only thing I can think about. All my eating has paid off and I want him to see how healthy my body looks. He won’t have to shudder at my thin frame this time. I take off my pants before I can think better of it and give him a moment to take me in as I stand in the sunlight in my underwear. I raise an eyebrow. 

“Are you coming?” I tempt him. I see him swallow and lift his own shirt over his head. It is my turn for a deep intake of breath. 

When he reaches for his pants I turn and run like the coward that I am. The sun may be bright, but the water is freezing, and my nipples instantly harden. I stay beneath the surface despite the frigid temperature so that he cannot see them. I don’t want him to think that I am turned on or anything. I take a few laps to get by blood flowing and soon find myself sliding through the water like a fish. I love swimming. I always have, and it isn’t long before my muscles begin to relax and I have a smile on my face. 

When I tire, I float on my back for a few minutes before I come to and realize that the sound that I hear is Peeta’s teeth chattering. He stands in the shallows, trying not to shiver and look manly. I take his hand and guide him out until he is chest deep. I show him the basic strokes. He tries and fails miserably. I teach him how to float on his back which is somewhat successful. 

All through the afternoon we work on it. I must touch him initially to hold him up so that he doesn’t drown before he gets the hang of it. His skin is unbelievably warm in the chilly water and course with hair in places where mine is smooth. I can feel the muscles in his back and shoulders and as the minutes go by I let my hands linger longer and explore further. 

When my lessons begin to bore him, he splashes me like the boy that I suppose he still is. I give it right back to him and soon we are dunking and wrestling like a couple of hooligans. He uses the water play as a cover for touching me as well. His hands skim my arms and legs and twice he pulls me flush against him by my waist. I make a show of trying to get away but am experimenting with how it feels to wriggle against him. 

My pule is thundering in my ears as we climb out onto the beach. It was a blast, but we were also flirting shamelessly. He was touching me on purpose and I was letting him. His eyes take in my wet bra covered breasts, swollen slightly from the size they were just a short time ago when he saw them in the cave. I stare at the erection straining against his sodden undershorts. No matter his feelings for Delly or my lack of feminine appeal, his body is aroused after having spent time close to me. 

After dinner, we sit by the fire. I don’t want the day to end. I shut the world out today, but it will come flooding back tomorrow. I turned off my mind and didn’t think about Peeta’s fiancé or about the potential danger my sister could be in. I didn’t focus on memories of my father or worry about the coming winter. I ignored that Peeta likely wouldn’t have given me the time of day if we were back home and I completely forgot that he is Merchant and that I am Seam. I let my guard down and played with him, really flirted and enjoyed myself for the first time ever. I know that it can’t last. 

“Thanks Katniss” Peeta says and I can hear the sincerity of gratefulness in his tone. “Thanks for today. That was fun. I haven’t had such a good time in…well I never have actually. It was good to see you happy too.”

“Probably the second-best day of my life” I admit. He looks me quizzically. “The day that I bought Prim her goat, Lady” I explain. “She absolutely loves that thing. It brought her so much joy. I don’t think anything could ever top that.” 

I give him a small smile. “Today was pretty great though.” 

The more I think of my sister, my face turns back into my typical scowl. 

“That doesn’t help Prim you know” Peeta says. 

I stare daggers back at him. 

“Happiness isn’t like a loaf of bread” he continues. “Just because you have some, doesn’t mean that she will have to go with less. We don’t have any control over what is happening with her right now. If you are 100% miserable every single day for the rest of your life, it won’t help her at all.” 

I lower my eyes. It is amazing how much he understands me. I know he isn’t the same way. I guess he must be a great listener of all the things that I don’t say. 

“I can’t help it” I confess. “I feel guilty any time I get to enjoy something that she doesn’t. Like the cosmos might short her anything that I take from the plate.” 

Peeta comes and puts an arm around me. 

“Life doesn’t work that way” he says. “I know how much you love her and so does she. Hell, she thinks that you died for her. No one else would have been brave and selfless enough to do that, no one.”

I try to shake off the compliment, uncomfortable with his praise. 

“I just did what any decent older sibling would have done” I insist. It is only a moment later that I realize that I have directly criticized his older brother. 

“That is why you are the first volunteer Twelve has ever had” he observes. 

“Look Katniss” he continues. “I know what you must think of my brother, but I didn’t expect him to volunteer for me. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t, and I didn’t want him too. My family isn’t like yours. The bond you share with Prim is unshakeable. My brothers and my Dad are good guys and they care about me, but they never protected me before and I didn’t think they would start on reaping day. I’ve always known that I was pretty much on my own.”

I think of all the beatings he has likely taken from his mother with no one to intervene. All the times they must have looked on as he suffered and cried as a young boy. I can’t stomach it. 

“There was no reason for him to take my place” Peeta repeats. “My oldest brother will inherit the bakery. My father will console himself with his business and the new grandchild he has coming. My mother never liked me anyway. No one needs me.” 

I fall to my knees in front of him and take his hands in mine. I look around at our tiny cabin under the vastness of the night sky.

“I do” I say honestly. “I need you…and I’ll protect you. I would volunteer for you…take your place.”

He slides down to the ground beside me and pulls me close, his cheek resting on the top of my head. 

“I know” he manages, his speech clogged with emotion. “I know you would. You already did. You helped me get to the cave, you stayed with me, nursed me. You came back when you thought the Peacekeeper had me. You’re my best friend too Katniss. You have me. Neither of us is going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We find Katniss in a better mood and frame of mind in this chapter. We are seeing a softer side of her. Part of that is because the harder edges of her life are not present. 
> 
> I would love your thoughts and feedback on how things are developing as well as on:
> 
> Katniss and Peeta wrestling with how close they are to 12, but what the consequences might be of contacting anyone there. 
> 
> Katniss has what I would describe as survivor's guilt over the fact that she escaped the games but others may have had to go and is having trouble enjoying anything without knowing her sister is well. 
> 
> They don't know if the capital just reported them as dead along the way and sent 2 less tributes in or if they drew names again. What do you think? Would you tangle with some of the guilt Katniss has about it?
> 
> Emotional confessions fireside :)
> 
> Thanks a million to everyone who is reading along.


	10. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension builds between Katniss and Peeta in a couple different ways as they hold up for winter in the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to give you an update. Work has been crazy busy in my new role. Thanks a million to everyone who has stuck with me on this one. I appreciate all of your thoughts and comments. As promised, I address the Delly question in this one.

I can hear the steady sound of an axe splitting logs as I move the bristles of our makeshift broom across the cabin floor. The first snows have come and gone and today it is warm enough to air the place out for a short time without shivering. Peeta is hard at work chopping more firewood and I am having a difficult time keeping my mind focused on the task at hand. I keep thinking about that afternoon swimming together at the lake. The way I feel calmer and more comfortable when I can hear his breathing in the night. 

I catch myself humming again and instantly force my lips into a scowl. I shouldn’t be enjoying any part of this. I’ve been reaped, torn away from my home and my sister. Peeta and I were destined to die in the arena, not play house together. I look at the broom in my hand as if it came from another planet. How did this happen? Peeta waltzes into the room and touches my waist as he moves by. It feels so…domestic. The way my father would have acted with my mother so long ago. I try not to let it bother me, but everything about our current arrangement reeks of intimacy. 

We were able to fish today as the lake still hasn’t frozen over. We scale and filet our catch side by side before roasting them around the fire on sticks. It feels good to be out in the clear night air, rather than to be stuck under a roof. The vastness of the stairs reminding me that existence doesn’t stop at the tree line. Somewhere out there is a world that we still must reckon with. A world in which we don’t belong together. 

The breeze shifts, and I start to cough from the smoke that has drifted in my direction. Peeta laughs at me good naturedly as I get up to move over to his side. He puts his arm around me and I stiffen. It isn’t cold enough to pretend we need to cuddle. Not tonight, not with so many issues weighing heavily on my mind. 

“What’s wrong Kat?” Peeta asks, sensing my irritation. 

I bristle under the nickname. Not because I don’t like it, but because it serves as yet another reminder of how I have let things go too far between us. He is engaged to another woman for heavens sake. I can’t keep letting this fantasy play out, not when my heart is starting to believe in it. 

“Nothing” I snuff, maneuvering his arm from around me and pushing it back in his direction. 

“I just really doubt that your FIANCE would approve of you snuggling with another woman.”

I expect a strong reaction from him. I have hinted here and there at my discomfort about his status as an engaged man and our evolving closeness, but this is the first time I have confronted him about it directly. 

His nonchalant shrug catches me off guard, but he drops his hand to his own knee and respects my need for space. 

“Delly wouldn’t care” he says. “I’m sure she was sad when I left but I know she will move on.”

“What?” I sputter. “Of course, she cares. She loves you. She hasn’t just moved on. We haven’t even been gone a year.”

Peeta’s eyes find mine and his head cocks to the side. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean that she doesn’t miss me” he explains. “I just mean that her parents still have time to find someone else. I just hope it’s someone good. I know she’ll never get a chance to be with the guy she really wants.”

I stare at him like he has three heads. I have no idea what he is talking about. 

“Katniss” he says as if he is talking to a child. “I don’t know what you thought, but Delly and I were never a love match. Our marriage was arranged a long time ago by our parents.”

I continue to gawk at him and it’s possible that my mouth is hanging open as well. 

“I have two older brothers” he explains. “One of them will inherit the bakery and it can’t support three families. Delly is an only child and she won’t be running the shoe shop on her own. Marrying me will mean favorable trades for her parents and another business in our family line for mine. Besides, our fathers were best friends in school. It’s what Merchant families have to do to ensure none of their children will have to go to the mines.”

My head is spinning. Peeta didn’t choose Delly. He might not even love her. He was just doing what his family asked of him. My lips tingle. I had assumed that they had kissed, most likely done a lot more at the slag heap. Now I’m uncertain. 

“I’m sure that she cares for you deeply” I tell him. I try to convince myself that I want to reassure him, but in my gut, I know that I’m testing him. Attempting to feel out just how close they are. 

“Sure” he agrees. “Dells and I have been friends forever. It seems like half the memories of my childhood have her in them. But I just never felt…well…whenever we were alone I felt like I was expected to do something romantic with my sister.” 

My heart is hammering in my chest. He doesn’t love her. At least not in the way I had feared. 

“You would never believe who she has a huge crush on” he smiles. 

Now I am truly floored. I can’t imagine being forced to marry someone I knew wanted to be with someone else. Merchant life clearly isn’t as appealing as I once believed. I may have been dirt poor, but I was free to date and marry whomever I chose or to stay single and make my own way.

“Thom” he continues. 

My eyes narrow. 

“Thom?” I say, my voice starting to rise. How in the hell could she possibly want Thom over Peeta? Thom was…ok I guess? But his hair was short and brown, his eyes were grey, he was boring, he was…Seam. 

“That’s insane” I nearly yell. “Thom isn’t anything special and he’s going to end up dead in the mines. You have way more to offer. Merchant people would never accept him. Why wouldn’t she want to be with someone of her own kind?” 

It’s Peeta turn to be surprised. 

“Maybe because she loves him?” he says. 

“Ridiculous” I say shaking my head. “She has no idea what she would be walking away from.”

“Oh come on Katniss” Peeta says with increasing agitation. “You of all people should know that class can’t keep people apart when they fall in love.”

I know he is speaking about my parents. Of their storybook romance. It was a beautiful tale as long as you didn’t read the ending. 

“I of all people know the consequences of that kind of foolish thinking” I lecture. “You saw me that day under the apple tree” I remind him. “That’s where all of your fancy love and romance lead Peeta. To children who don’t remember the last time they have eaten.”

I take a moment to gather my next words. 

“I know she was supposed to marry your father” I say. “She should have. She never should have left the apothecary. Loving my father destroyed her. It wasn’t worth it.”

“If she hadn’t followed her heart you would have never been born” he reminds me. 

“I know” I say in confirmation. “Like I said, all of the suffering wasn’t worth it.”

I’m awash in unfamiliar emotions and want to leave it at that. Love is dangerous. Peeta and I should not allow it, regardless of the hurt I see in his eyes as I run back into the cabin. 

I retreat to the woods as much as I can after that. I insist that I need to focus on hunting but Peeta knows that I am avoiding him. It hurts his feelings, but he tries not to let it show. He makes a point of completing every conceivable task possible in the winter and pretends to enjoy it. He has a smile on his face whenever I return, but when he doesn’t think I’m watching his expression gives away his sorrow. He’s lonely. Tired of playing this game of cat and mouse with a girl terrified of her emotional shadow. 

He tries to bring up our conversation about Delly again, but I tell him to drop it. It doesn’t matter what his relationship with Delly was or is. I’m a damaged Seam girl who should have died in the arena. No accident of fate can change that reality. Our current state cannot last forever, and our unique circumstances are the only thing driving this attraction between us. 

My determination to shut him out meets with mixed results until the heavy snows set in. We venture out for a few hours spread throughout the day, but most of our time is spent stuck in close quarters. There is only so much time a person can spend tending a fire and staring into space and after a while the silence drives me insane. I can’t imagine what it is doing to a social butterfly like Peeta. 

The conversations begin slowly, I am hesitant even to small talk, for fear he will turn the focus to topics my heart isn’t ready to explore. As soon as I show a willingness to melt the iciness between us, he seems happy to jump back into our previously established friendship. We sit by the small fireplace for hours, the windows blocked by endless streams of white. 

He tells me about his childhood learning how to work in the bakery and fighting with his brothers whenever his mother wasn’t home. How is father showed him first how to clean up, then how to wait on customers, and finally every recipe that has solidified the Mellark’s place as the town bakers. It strikes me how much of his life was spent working. 

I think of his betrothal to Delly. I understand why the Merchants do it. For the same reason I sneak under the fence. It is a matter of survival. Peeta’s family might have a more comfortable cage, but they are still prisoners of the Capital. I look at the snow falling outside of the window. All our lives to this point were owned by the Government. I wonder if things have really changed. Are we free or are we living in another form of containment?

I tell Peeta about the only time my father and I ever spent the night at the lake. It was torrentially raining and we were too miserable to leave the cabin. We stayed up late, warming our hands by the fire and telling stories. I was having such a wonderful time that I didn’t even think of how my mother must have been worrying until she flew into my father’s arms when we walked through the door the following evening. She probably thought we had been captured by Peacekeepers or fallen victim to an animal attack. 

He looks thoughtful as I finish the tale and I can tell that something is on his mind. 

“You think it was the wrong decision for your parents to get married” he starts. “But you blame your mother for the mistake. It seems to me that your Father is the one who asked her. He knew he couldn’t come to the Merchant square. He knew the hard life she would be joining him in. Either he believed enough in love that he thought it was worth it, or he really didn’t love her at all. Either way, if it was the idiotic choice that you have come to think it is, he had his hand in it from the beginning.”

I stare into the fire. His words causing too much upheaval for me to be angry with him. I stand and gather my bow. I am conscious of his voice, that he is apologizing and asking me not to go. I need to though. I need to get out where I can breathe and be away from the bombshell he just dropped on me. He is right. I’ve always blamed my mother. Never once have a made my father own is part in our family’s demise. Peeta tries to follow me, but I scream at him to leave me be. 

I hardly notice the cold wind as it bites my cheeks and hands. I stumble a few times and comp template just laying down in the snow and drifting off. It would be easy. A simple way to end the twisted feeling in my gut. My mother and sister believe me dead. It would do them no further harm. But there is a blonde boy in a cabin not far away that would be left alone. One that would never forgive himself for upsetting me. 

It is thoughts of his long eyelashes and playful grin that eventually break through my haze and force me to turn back to the lake. I haven’t been hunting, just traipsing around the woods in an effort to get my head on straight. It is not until I open the door and see Peeta’s tear streaked face that I fully realize the stupidity of my actions. Pain slices through my fingers as he takes them in his hands and rubs life back into my flesh. 

He uses a cloth to wipe the snow from my hair and face before removing my jacket and shirt as well. I stand like a zombie while he strips me to my underpants and bra. He wraps me in the bedroll and sets me in front of the fire. I can see the relief on his face while he piles additional logs on. He may think me a fool, but he is glad that I am back to join him. 

“Sorry” he says after a long time. “I know things are still pretty new between us. Your family is none of my business and I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I think on it long and hard. He must believe that I am giving him the silent treatment because he nearly jumps at the sound of my voice. 

“It’s not your fault” I say. My voice feels hoarse and I have to cough a few times to clear my throat. 

“You’re allowed to say anything you want. I’m just not ready to discuss it. Not yet. You gave me some things to consider and I will.”

We are silent after that. Just listening to the wind rage beyond the cabin walls and the sound of each other breathing. I think of all the nights my parents must have spent, lying together in their small room in the Seam. I turn to see Peeta’s profile in the flickering light. Did my mother ever regret leaving the life she had before to be with the man she loved? Probably not, but it doesn’t change the fact that it destroyed her in the end. 

It is a good thing that we worked hard during the summer and fall hunting, fishing, gathering and storing because as winter marches on, it proves to be unrelenting. Snow continues to fall, until we have to spend significant amounts of time just clearing enough of it to get to the woodpile. We haul buckets in to melt for drinking water and to wash up. 

It is awkward, sitting at the cold end of the room facing the wall while I listen to him sponge bathe in front of the fireplace. I sneak a few glances every now and then and I know that he does too. On one occasion I see nearly his whole body. It brings to mind the time I spied on him near our cave and heat rushes through my core. My breasts feel heavy and when I close my eyes I picture him touching and licking them. I try to ignore it, to push it to the back of my mind, but it is nearly impossible when we are trapped together night and day like this. 

Just when I think the tension between us cannot get any worse, I am temporarily distracted when the temperature drops like a stone. I no longer need to worry about my raging teenage hormones, for I am too exhausted from the endless chattering of my teeth to care. Peeta suggests several times that we share the bedroll and I steadfastly refuse. Our personal space is the one defense that I still have against him and I fear what lurks ahead if I give it up. 

I am swamped with guilt when it is my turn to use it and I hear him shivering on the floor beside me. I try to give it back to him but he proves to be as stubborn as I am. 

“Peeta” I insist. “Please, take the bedroll. You sound awful. It’s your turn.”

He shakes his head. 

“You sound just as bad” he manages to get out, his lips trembling. “If one of us needs to wait this out, it should be me. I’m bigger. I don’t think I will freeze to death.”

His overwhelming generosity to a surly girl who never deserves him does me in and I find myself unzipping the bedroll.

“Neither of us are going to die” I say softly. “Come on, we’ll share. At least until the temperature improves.”

He removes his extra layers and slides in beside me. His body is still quaking from the frigid air and I am pretty sure that I shock him by pulling him into my arms. There is no reason to pretend that our bodies won’t be touching. We are sharing a sleeping bag for heavens sake. Slowly, his body stills and after a time, his skin becomes pleasantly warm. I sleep well that night for the first time in weeks, his strong arms wrapped around my middle and my back pressed against his chest. 

When I wake in the morning, I know something amazing is happening and yet something very wrong. His lips are pressed against my neck and one of my breasts is covered by his hand. I have felt the stirrings of one of his erections before, but this time it is large and thick and so close to being between my legs that I have to squirm. It wakes him and he tries to pull back from me until he realizes that it is still early morning. We don’t venture out until the sun comes up. It is too risky to take the chance. 

He adjusts himself and I can no longer feel the clear evidence of his arousal but there is no way I can ignore mine. My panties are soaked and I would do anything to have 10 minutes of privacy to touch whatever is throbbing between my legs. Eventually, we are able to get up and around but the next few nights follow in much the same way. Hands wander a bit but not nearly enough to relieve the pressure that seems ready to explode. Something has to give. We can’t go on this way much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we have the Delly question answered. The barriers between these two are coming down and Katniss can't use Delly as an excuse not to act on her feelings anymore. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on the conversations they have regarding her parents and the nature of love and class division. 
> 
> I love hearing from all of you. 
> 
> Peeta has more patience with this situation than I would.

**Author's Note:**

> This version of Katniss has a bit of my own style added and nuances that I need for later plot and story elements. Please let me know your thoughts and feedback on this first chapter and what we know about her so far. Her reflections on the actions of the Baker are particularly interesting. She has a major conundrum here. Let's see what she does with it. We haven't gotten anything from Peeta yet but that will be coming in the next chapter. 
> 
> Until then, leave me your feedback and I will give you another chapter as soon as I can.


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